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Set up, Printed and Bound at the 
KINGSPORT PRESS 
Kincsport TENNESSEE 
United States of America 


Sk3 

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IF2Lb 
CONTENTS 


PART I 


BEING A REPRINT FROM THE REMINISCENCES oF JoHN H. Watson, 
M. D., Late oF THE Army MepicaL DEPARTMENT. 


CHAPTER PAGE 
EDS SET IOCK  LLOMNES gg Migiigag ha iene iota maar h ts 1 

Pred Werselence OL, DedgChiOn foo 4 W's ie ie) Boe his cana 9 
III The Lauriston Gardens Mystery . ... +. +. 20 
Pyee What Jonnvicance triad to Tell ies oye Se eee a 
V Our Advertisement Brings a Visitor. . . . 2... 38 
VI Tobias Gregson Shows What He Can Do. .... 46 
VII Light in the Darkness . ... CEN SG Uh al ek eri are 


PART II 
THE CountTRY OF THE SAINTS 


PisGin the Great) Allealt Plas) hie oe eho el kh ac ican OO 


II The Flower of Utah. . . hat enue Stes 
III John Ferrier Talks With the. Prophet Phir Pun Po yr Er TAAr TE Cle 1 
BVe As ent: for. Liles) as tes FAN Rea asey or CA 

V The Avenging Angels... : ne ates 


VI A Continuation of the Pendiucenees’ of aes H. 
Wortacn, Me Dar urate ee ce Hgb etal! te Wor Rake 
Ear ConclisiOn:<.¢) Fe seek lade einen e yists.e hee LAR 


Mie Captain of the “Pole-Star 4350 6).. si ns ee ee, dee 


J. Habakuk Jephson’s Statement. . . . . +» « « « « - 150 
The Great Keinplatz Experiment. ........ . 183 
RAM ArY CePOtl ATCHANEE! ee bores ce Ve wan eek 


PETS OSG LO EHIE SG ia a insur wen c eh ae ices Went a eee 


A Study in Scarlet 
PART I 


BEING A REPRINT FROM THE REMINISCENCES OF JOHN H. 
WATSON, M. D., LATE OF THE ARMY MEDICAL DEPARTMENT 


CHAPTER: I 
MR. SHERLOCK HOLMES 


In the year 1878 I took my degree of Doctor of Medi- 
cine of the University of London, and proceeded to 
Netley to go through the course prescribed for surgeons 
in the army. Having completed my studies there, I was 
duly attached to the Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers as 
assistant surgeon. ‘The regiment was stationed in India 
at the time, and before I could join it the second Afghan 
war had broken out. On landing at Bombay I learned 
that my corps had advanced through the passes, and was 
already deep in the enemy’s country. I followed, how- 
ever, with many other officers who were in the same 
situation as myself, and succeeded in reaching Can- 
dahar in safety, where I found my regiment, and at once 
entered upon my new duties. 

The campaign brought honors and promotion to many, 
but for me it had nothing but misfortune and disaster. 
I was removed from my brigade and attached to the 
Berkshires, with whom I served at the fatal battle of 
Maiwand. ‘There I was struck on the shoulder by a 
Jezail bullet, which shattered the bone and grazed the 
subclavian artery. JI should have fallen into the hands 

1 


2 A STUDY IN SCARLET 


of the murderous Ghazis had it not been for the devotion 
and courage shown by Murray, my orderly, who threw 
me across a pack-horse and succeeded in bringing me 
safely to the British lines. 

Worn with pain, and weak from the prolonged hard- 
ships which I had undergone, I was removed, with a great 
train of wounded sufferers, to the base hospital at Pesh- 
awur. Here I rallied, and had already improved so far 
as to be able to walk about the wards, and even to bask 
a little upon the veranda, when I was struck down by 
enteric fever, that curse of our Indian possessions. For 
months my life was despaired of, and when at last I 
came to myself and became convalescent, I was so weak 
and emaciated that a medical board determined that not 
a day should be lost in sending me back to England. I 
was dispatched, accordingly, in the troop-ship “Orontes,” 
and landed a month later on Portsmouth jetty, with my 
health irretrievably ruined, but with permission from a 
paternal government to spend the next nine months in 
attempting to improve it. 

I had neither kith nor kin in England, and was there- 
fore as free as air—or as free as an income of eleven 
shillings and sixpence a day will permit a man to be. 
Under such circumstances I naturally gravitated to Lon- 
don, that great cesspool into which all the loungers and 
idlers of the empire are irresistibly drained. There I 
stayed for some time at a private hotel in the Strand, 
leading a comfortless, meaningless existence, and spend- 
ing such money as I had considerably more freely than 
I ought. So alarming did the state of my finances be- 
come, that I soon realized I must either leave the me- 
tropolis and rusticate somewhere in the country, or that 
I must make a complete alteration in my style of living. 
Choosing the latter alternative, I began by making up 
my mind to leave the hotel, and to take up my quarters in 
some less pretentious and less expensive domicile. 

On the very day that I had come to this conclusion, 
I was standing at the Criterion bar, when some.one tapped 
me on the shoulder, and turning round I recognized young 


A STUDY IN SCARLET 3 


Stamford, who had been a dresser under me at Bart’s. 
The sight of a friendly face in the great wilderness of 
London is a pleasant thing indeed to a lonely man. In 
old days Stamford had never been a particular crony 
of mine, but now I hailed him with enthusiasm, and he, 
in his turn, appeared to be delighted to see me. In the 
exuberance of my joy I asked him to lunch with me at 
the Holborn, and we started off together in a hansom. 

“Whatever have you been doing with yourself, Wat- 
son?” he asked, in undisguised wonder, as we rattled 
through the crowded London streets. “You are as thin 
as a lath and as brown as a nut.” 

I gave him a short sketch of my adventures, and had 
hardly concluded it by the time that we reached our 
destination. 

“Poor devil!” he said, commiseratingly, after he had 
listened to my misfortunes. ‘What are you up to now?” 

“Looking for lodgings,” I answered. “Trying to solve 
the problem as to whether it is possible to get comfortable 
rooms at a reasonable price.” 

“That is a strange thing,” remarked my companion; 
“you are the second man to-day that has used that ex- 
pression to me.” 

“And who was the first?” I asked. 

“A fellow who is working at the chemical laboratory 
up at the hospital. He was bemoaning himself this morn- 
ing because he could not get some one to go halves with 
him in some nice rooms which he had found, and which 
were too much for his purse.” 

“By Jove!” I cried, “if he really wants some one to 
share the rooms and the expense, I am the very man for 
him. I should prefer having a partner to being alone.” 

Young Stamford looked rather strangely at me over 
his wine-glass. 

“You don’t know Sherlock Holmes yet,” he said; “per- 
haps you would not care for him-as a constant com- 
panion.” 

“Why, what is there against him?” 

“Oh, I didn’t say there was anything against him. 


4; A STUDY IN SCARLET 


He is a little queer in his ideas—an enthusiast in some 
branches of science. As far as I know he is a decent 
fellow enough.” : 

“A medical student, I suppose?” said I. 

“No; I have no idea what he intends to go in for. 
I believe he is well up in anatomy, and he is a first- 
class chemist; but, as far as I know, he has never taken 
out any systematic medical classes. His studies are very 
desultory and eccentric, but he has amassed a lot of out- 
of-the-way knowledge which would astonish his pro- 
fessors.”’ 

“Did you never ask him what he was going in for?” 
I asked. 

“No; he is not a man that it is easy to draw out, 
though he can be communicative enough when the fancy 
seizes him.” 

“T should like to meet him,” I said. “If I am to 
lodge with any one, I should prefer a man of studious 
and quiet habits. I am not strong enough yet to stand 
much noise or excitement. I had enough of both in 
Afghanistan to last me for the remainder of my natural 
existence. How could I meet this friend of yours?” 

“He is sure to be at the laboratory. He either avoids 
the place for weeks, or else he works there from morning 
to night. If you like, we shall drive round together after 
luncheon.” 

“Certainly,” I answered; and the conversation drifted 
away into other channels. 

As we made our way to the hospital after leaving the 
Holborn, Stamford gave me a few more particulars about 
the gentleman whom I proposed to take as a fellow- 
lodger. 

“You mustn’t blame me if you don’t get on with 
him,” he said; “I know nothing more of him than I 
have learned from meeting him occasionally in the labora- 
tory. You proposed this arrangement, so you must not 
hold me responsible.” 

“If we don’t get on it will be easy to part company,” 
I answered. “It seems to me, Stamford,” I added, look- 


A STUDY IN SCARLET 5 


ing hard at my companion, “that you have some reason 
for washing your hands of the matter. Is this fellow’s 
temper so formidable, or what is it? Don’t be mealy- 
mouthed about it.” 

“Tt is not easy to express the inexpressible,” he an- 
swered, with a laugh. “Holmes is a little too scientific 
for my tastes—it approaches to cold-bloodedness. I could 
imagine his giving a friend a little pinch of the latest 
vegetable alkaloid, not out of malevolence, you understand, 
but simply out of a spirit of inquiry in order to have 
an accurate idea of the effects. To do him justice, 
I think that he would take it himself with the same 
readiness. He appears to have a passion for definite and 
exact knowledge.” 

“Very right, too.” 

“Yes; but it may be pushed to excess. When it comes 
to beating the subjects in the dissecting-rooms with a 
stick, it is certainly taking rather a bizarre shape.” 

“Beating the subjects!” 

“Yes; to verify how far bruises may be produced after 
death. I saw him at it with my own eyes.” 

“And yet you say he is not a medical student?” 

“No. Heaven knows what the objects of his studies 
are! But here we are, and you must form your own 
impressions about him.” 

As he spoke we turned down a narrow lane and 
passed through a small side door, which opened into a 
wing of the great hospital. It was familiar ground to 
me, and I needed no guiding as we ascended the bleak 
stone staircase and made our way down the long corridor, 
with its vista of whitewashed wall and dun-colored doors. 
Near the further end a low, arched passage branched away 
from it and led to the chemical laboratory. 

This was a lofty chamber, lined and littered with 
countless bottles. Broad, low tables were scattered about, 
which bristled with retorts, test-tubes, and little Bunsen 
lamps, with their blue, flickering flames. There was only 
one student in the room, who was bending over a distant 
table absorbed in his work. At the sound of our steps 


6 A STUDY IN SCARLET 


he glanced round and sprang to his feet with a cry of 
pleasure. : 

“I’ve found it! I’ve found it!” he shouted to my 
companion, running toward us with a test-tube in his 
hand. “I have found a reagent which is precipitated 
by hemoglobin, and by nothing else.” 

Had he discovered a gold mine greater delight could 
not have shone upon his features. 

“Dr. Watson—Mr. Sherlock Holmes,” said Stamford, 
introducing us. 

“How are you?” he said, cordially, gripping my hand 
with a strength for which I should hardly have given 
him credit. “You have been in Afghanistan, I perceive.” 

“How on earth did you know that?” I asked, in aston- 
ishment. 

“Never mind,” said he, chuckling to himself. ‘The 
question now is about hemoglobin. No doubt you see 
the significance of this discovery of mine?” 

“It is interesting, chemically, no doubt,’ I answered; 
“but practically ss 

“Why, man, it is the most practical medico-legal dis- 
covery for years. Don’t you see that it gives us an in- 
fallible test for blood-stains? Come over here, now!” 
He seized me by the coat-sleeve in his eagerness and drew 
me over to the table at which he had been working. 
“Let us have some fresh blood,” he said, digging a long 
bodkin into his finger and drawing off the resulting drop 
of blood in a chemical pipette. “Now, I add this small 
quantity of blood to a litre of water. You perceive that 
the resulting mixture has the appearance of true water. 
The proportion of blood cannot be more than one in a 
million. I have no doubt, however, that we shall be able 
to obtain the characteristic reaction.” 

As he spoke he threw into the vessel a few white 
crystals, and then added some drops of a transparent 
fluid. In an instant the contents assumed a dull mahog- 
any color, and a brownish dust was precipitated to the 
bottom of the glass jar. 

“Ha! ha!” he cried, clapping his hands and looking 


A STUDY IN SCARLET 7 


as delighted as a child with a new toy. “What do you 
think of that?” 

“It seems to be a very delicate test,” I remarked. 

“Beautiful! beautiful! The old guaiacum test was very 
clumsy and uncertain. So is the microscopic examination 
for blood-corpuscles. The latter is valueless if the stains 
‘are a few hours old. Now, this appears to act as well 
whether the blood is old or new. Had this test been in- 
vented, there are hundreds of men now walking the earth 
who would long ago have paid the penalty of their crimes.” 

“Indeed!” I murmured. 

“Criminal cases are continually hinging upon that one 
point. A man is suspected of a crime months, perhaps, 
after it has been committed. His linen or clothes are 
examined, and brownish stains discovered upon them. 
Are they blood-stains, or mud-stains, or rust-stains, or 
fruit-stains, or what are they? ‘That is a question which 
has puzzled many an expert; and why? Because there 
was no reliable test. Now we have the Sherlock Holmes 
test, and there will no longer be any difficulty.” 

His eyes fairly glittered as he spoke, and he put his 
hand over his heart and bowed as if to some applauding 
crowd conjured up by his imagination. 

“You are to be congratulated,” I remarked, consid- 
erably surprised at his enthusiasm. 

“There was the case of Von Bischoff at Frankfort 
last year. He would certainly have been hung had this 
test been in existence. Then there was Mason, of Brad- 
ford, and the notorious Muller, and Lefevre, of Mont- 
pellier, and Samson, of New Orleans. I could name a 
score of cases in which it would have been decisive.” 

“You seem to be a walking calendar of crime,” said 
Stamford, with a laugh. “You might start a paper 
on those lines. Call it the ‘Police News of the Past.’ ” 

“Very interesting reading it might be made, too,” re- 
marked Sherlock Holmes, sticking a small piece of plaster 
over the prick of his finger. “I have to be careful,” he 
continued, turning to me with a smile, “for I dabble with 
poisons a good deal.” 


8 A STUDY IN SCARLET 


He held out his hand as he spoke, and I noticed that 
it was all mottled over with similar pieces of ‘plaster 
and discolored with strong acids. 

“We came here on business,” said Stamford, sitting 
down on a three-legged stool and pushing another one 
in my direction with his foot. “My friend here wants 
to take diggings, and as you were complaining that you 
could get no one to go halves with you, I thought that 
[ had better bring you together.” 

Sherlock Holmes seemed delighted at the idea of shar- 
ing his rooms with me. 

“I have my eye on a suite in Baker street,” he said, 
“which would suit us down to the ground. You don’t 
mind the smell of strong tobacco, I hope?” 

“T always smoke ‘ship’s’ myself,” I answered. 

“That’s good enough. I generally have chemicals 
about, and occasionally do experiments. Would that 
annoy you?” 

“By no means.” 

“Let me see—what are my other shortcomings? I 
get in the dumps at times, and don’t open my mouth for 
days on end. You must not think I am sulky when I do 
that. Just let me alone, and I'll soon be all right. What 
have you to confess, now? It’s just as well for two 
fellows to know the worst of each other before they begin 
to live together.” 

I laughed at this cross-examination. 

“TI keep a bull-pup,” I said, “and object to rows, be- 
cause my nerves are shaken, and I get up at all sorts 
of ungodly hours, and I am extremely lazy. I have 
another set of vices when I’m well, but those are the 
principal ones at present.” 

“Do you include violin-playing in your category of 
rows?” he asked, anxiously. 

“Tt depends on the player,’ I answered. “A well- 
played violin is a treat for the gods; a badly played 
one . 

“Oh, that’s all right,” he cried, with a merry laugh. 


A STUDY IN SCARLET 9 


“T think we may consider the thing as settled—that is, 
if the rooms are agreeable to you.” 

“When shall we see them?” 

“Call for me here at noon to-morrow, and we'll go 
together and settle everything,” he answered. 

“All right—noon exactly,” said I, shaking his hand. 

We left him working among his chemicals, and we 
walked together toward my hotel. 

“By the way,” I asked, suddenly, stopping and turning 
upon Stamford, “how the deuce did he know that I had 
come from Afghanistan?” 

My companion smiled an enigmatical smile. 

“That’s just his little peculiarity,” he said. “A good 
many people have wanted to know how he finds things 
out.” 

“Oh, a mystery, is it?’ I cried, rubbing my hands. 
“This is very piquant. I am much obliged to you for 
bringing us together. ‘The proper study of mankind is 
man,’ you know.” 

“You must study him, then,” Stamford said, as he bid 
me good-by. “You'll find him a knotty problem, though. 
I'll wager he learns more about you than you about him. 
Good-by.”’ 

“Good-by,” I answered; and strolled on to my hotel, 
considerably interested in my new acquaintance, 


CHAPTER II 
THE SCIENCE OF DEDUCTION 


WE met next day, as he had arranged, and inspected 
the rooms at No. 221 Baker Street, of which he had 
spoken at our meeting. They consisted of a couple of 
_ comfortable bedrooms and a single, large, airy sitting- 
room, cheerfully furnished, and illuminated by two broad 
windows. So desirable in every way were the apart- 
ments, and so moderate did the terms seem when divided 
between us, that the bargain was concluded upon the spot, 
and.we at once entered into possession. That very even- 


10 A STUDY IN SCARLET 


ing I had moved my things round from the hotel, and 
on the following morning Sherlock Holmes followed me 
with several boxes and portmanteaus. For a day or two 
we were busily employed in unpacking and laying out 
our property to the best advantage. That done, we grad- 
ually began to settle down and to accommodate ourselves 
to our new surroundings. 

Holmes was certainly not a difficult man to live with. 
He was quiet in his ways, and his habits were regular. 
It was rare for him to be up after ten at night, and he 
had invariably breakfasted and gone out before I rose 
in the morning. Sometimes he spent his day at the 
chemical laboratory, sometimes in the dissecting-rooms, 
and occasionally in long walks, which appeared to take 
him into the lowest portions of the city. Nothing could 
exceed his energy when the working fit was upon him; 
but now and again a reaction would seize him, and for 
days on end he would lie upon the sofa in the sitting- 
room, hardly uttering a word or moving a muscle from 
morning to night. On these occasions I have noticed 
such a dreamy, vacant expression in his eyes, that I might 
have suspected him of being addicted to the use of some 
narcotic had not the temperance and cleanliness of his 
whole life forbidden such a notion. 

As the weeks went by my interest in him and my 
curiosity as to his aims in life gradually deepened and 
increased. His very person and appearance were. such 
as to strike the attention of the most casual observer. 
In height he was rather over six feet, and so excessively 
lean that he seemed to be considerably taller. His eyes 
were sharp and piercing, save during those intervals of 
torpor to which I have alluded; and his thin, hawk-like 
nose gave his whole expression an air of alertness and 
decision. His chin, too, had the prominence and square- 
ness which mark the man of determination. His hands 
were invariably blotted with ink and stained with chem- 
icals, yet he was possessed of extraordinary delicacy of 
touch, as I frequently had occasion to observe when I 


A STUDY IN SCARLET 11 


watched him manipulating his fragile philosophical in- 
struments. 

The reader may set me down as a hopeless busybody 
when I confess how much this man stimulated my curios- 
ity, and how often I endeavored to break through the 
reticence which he showed on all that concerned him- 
self. Before pronouncing judgment, however, be it re- 
membered how objectless was my life, and how little there 
was to engage my attention. My health forbade me from 
venturing out unless the weather was exceptionally 
genial, and I had no friends who would call upon me and 
break the monotony of my daily existence. Under these 
circumstances I eagerly hailed the little mystery which 
hung around my companion, and spent much of my time 
in endeavoring to unravel it. 

He was not studying medicine. He had himself, in 
reply to-a question, confirmed Stamford’s opinion upon 
that point. Neither did he appear to have pursued any 
course of reading which might fit him for a degree 
in science or any other recognized portal which would 
give him an entrance into the learned world. Yet his 
zeal for certain studies was remarkable, and within ec- 
centric limits his knowledge was so extraordinarily ample 
and minute that his observations have fairly astounded 
me. Surely no man would work so hard to attain such 
precise information unless he had some definite end in 
view. Desultory readers are seldom remarkable for the 
exactness of their learning. No man burdens his mind 
with small matters unless he has some very good reason 
for doing so. 

His ignorance was as remarkable as his knowledge. 
Of contemporary literature, philosophy, and politics he 
appeared to know next to ‘nothing. Upon my quoting 
Thomas Carlyle, he inquired in the naivest way who he 
might be and what he had done. My surprise reached a 
climax, however, when I found incidentally that he was 
ignorant of the Copernican theory and of the composition 
of the solar system. That any civilized human being in 
this nineteenth century should not be aware that the earth 


12 A STUDY IN SCARLET 


traveled round the sun appeared to be to me such an 
extraordinary fact that I could hardly realize it. 

“You appear to be astonished,” he said, smiling at my 
expression of surprise. “Now that I do know it, I shall 
do my best to forget it.” 

“To forget itt” 

“You see,” he explained, “I consider that a man’s brain 
originally is like a little empty attic, and you have to stock 
it with such furniture as you choose. A fool takes in 
all the lumber of every sort that he comes across, so that 
the knowledge which might be useful to him gets crowded 
out, or at best is jumbled up with a lot of other things, 
so that he has a difficulty in laying his hands upon it. 
Now, the skillful workman is very careful indeed as to 
what he takes into his brain-attic. He will have nothing 
but the tools which may help him in doing his work, but 
of these he has a large assortment, and all in the most 
perfect order. It is a mistake to think that that little 
room has elastic walls and can distend to any extent. 
Depend upon it, there comes a time when for every addi- 
tion of knowledge you forget something that you knew 
before. It is of the highest importance, therefore, not 
to have useless facts elbowing out the useful ones.” 

“But the solar system!” I protested. 

“What the deuce is it to me?” he interrupted, im- 
patiently; “you say that we go round the sun. If we 
went round the moon it would not make a pennyworth 
of difference to me or to my work.” 

I was on the point of asking him what that work 
might be, but something in his manner showed me that 
the question would be an unwelcome one. I pondered 
over our short conversation, however, and endeavored to 
draw my deductions from it. He said that he would 
acquire no knowledge which did not bear upon his ob- 
ject. Therefore ali the knowledge which he possessed 
was such as would be useful to him. I enumerated in 
my own mind all the various points upon which he had 
shown me that he was exceptionally well informed. I 
even took a pencil and jotted them down. I could not 


A STUDY mn SCARLET 13 


help smiling at the document when I had completed it. 
It ran this way: 


SHERLOCK HotmeEs—his limits. 


1. Knowledge of Literature—Nil. 

vm “ Philosophy—Nil. 

i A “ Astronomy—Nil. 

4. 2 “ Politics—Feeble. 

5 Botany—Variable; well up in bella- 
donna, opium, and poisons gener- 
ally. Knows nothing of practical 
gardening. 

Geology—Practical, but limited. Tells 
at a glance different soils from each 
other; after walks has shown me 
splashes upon his trousers, and told 
me by their color and consistency 
in what part of London he had re- 
ceived them. 

Chemistry—Profound. 

Anatomy—Accurate, but unsystematic. 

Sensational Literature—Immense. He 
appears to know every detail of 
every horror perpetrated in the 
century. 

10. Plays the violin well. 

11. Is an expert single-stick player, boxer, and swords- 

man. 

12. Has practical knowledge of British law. 


When I had got so far in my list I threw it into the 
fire in despair. 

“Tf I cannot find what the fellow is driving at by recon- 
ciling all these accomplishments, and discovering a calling 
which needs them all,” I said to myself, “I may as well 
give up the attempt at once.’ 

I see that I have alluded above to his powers upon 
the violin. These were very remarkable, but as eccentric 
as all his other accomplishments. That he could play 
pieces, and difficult pieces, 1 knew well, because at my 


6é 46 


o\ 
z 
z 


6é é¢ 
6 &é 


6é éé 


SOON 


14 A STUDY IN SCARLET 


request he has played me some of Mendelsohn’s Lieder, 
and other favorites. When left to himself, however, he 
would seldom produce any music or attempt any recog- 
nized air. 

Leaning back in his armchair of an evening, he would 
close his eyes and scrape carelessly at the fiddle, which 
was thrown across his knee. Sometimes the chords were 
sonorous and melancholy; occasionally they were fantastic 
and cheerful. Clearly they reflected the thoughts which 
possessed him. But whether the music aided those 
thoughts, or whether the playing was simply the result of 
a whim or fancy, was more than I could determine. I 
might have rebelled against these exasperating solos had 
it not been that he usually terminated them by playing 
in quick succession a whole series of my favorite airs, as 
a slight compensation for the trial upon my patience. 

During the first week or so we had no callers, and I 
had begun to think that my companion was as friendless 
a man as I was myself. Presently, however, I found 
that he had many acquaintances, and those in the most 
different classes of society. There was one little sallow, 
rat-faced, dark-eyed fellow who was introduced to me as 
Mr. Lestrade, and who came three or four times in a 
single week. One morning a young girl called, fashion- 
ably dressed, and stayed for half an hour or more. The 
same afternoon brought a gray-headed, seedy visitor, 
looking like a Jew peddler, who appeared to me to be 
much excited, and who was closely followed by a slip- 
shod elderly woman. On another occasion an old white- 
haired gentleman had an interview with my companion, 
and on another a railway porter in his velveteen uniform. 
When any of these nondescript individuals put in an 
appearance Sherlock Holmes used to beg for the use of 
the sitting-room, and I would retire to my bedroom. He 
always apologized to me for putting me to this incon- 
venience. 

“I have to use this room as a place of business,” he 
said, “and these people are my clients.” 

Again I had an opportunity of asking him a point- 


A STUDY IN SCARLET 15 


blank question, and again my delicacy prevented me from 
forcing another man to confide in me. I imagined at 
the time that he had some strong reason for not ‘alluding 
to it, but he soon dispelled the idea by coming round to 
the subject of his own accord. 

It was upon the 4th of March, as I have good reason 
to remember, that I rose somewhat earlier than usual, 
and found that Sherlock Holmes had not yet finished his 
breakfast. The landlady had become so accustomed to 
my late habits that my place had not been laid nor my 
coffee prepared. With the unreasonable petulance of 
mankind I rang the bell and gave a curt intimation that 
I was ready. Then I picked up a magazine from the 
table and attempted to while away the time with it, while 
my companion munched silently at his toast. One of 
the articles had a pencil-mark at the heading, and I 
naturally began to run my eye through it. 

Its somewhat ambitious title was ““The Book of Life,” 
and it attempted to show how much an observant man 
might learn by an accurate and systematic examination 
of all that came in his way. It struck me as being a re- 
markable mixture of shrewdness and absurdity. The 
reasoning was close and intense, but the deductions ap- 
peared to me to be far-fetched and exaggerated. The 
writer claimed by a momentary expression, a twitch of 
a muscle, or a glance of an eye, to fathom a man’s inmost 
thoughts. Deceit, according to him, was an impossibility 
in the case of one trained to observation and analysis. 
His conclusions were as infallible as so many propositions 
of Euclid. So startling would his results appear to the 
uninitiated that, until they learned the process by which 
he had arrived at them, they might well consider him 
as a necromancer. 

“From a drop of water,” said the writer, “a logician 
could infer the possibility of an Atlantic or a Niagara 
without having seen or heard of one or the other. So 
all life is a great chain, the nature of which is known 
whenever we are shown a single link of it. Like all 
other arts, the Science of Deduction and Analysis is one 


16 A STUDY IN SCARLET 


which can only be acquired by long and patient study, 
nor is life long enough to allow any mortal to attain the 
highest possible perfection in it. Before turning to those 
moral and mental aspects of the matter which present 
the greatest difficulties, let the inquirer begin by mastering 
more elementary problems. Let him, on meeting a fel- 
low-mortal, learn at a glance to distinguish the history 
of the man, and the trade or profession to which he 
belongs. Puerile as such an exercise may seem, it 
sharpens the faculties of observation and teaches one 
where to look and what to look for. By a man’s finger- 
nails, by his coat-sleeve, by his boot, by his trouser-knees. 
by the callosities of his forefinger and thumb, by his ex- 
pression, by his shirt-cuffs—by each of these things a 
man’s calling is plainly revealed. That all united should 
fail to enlighten the competent inquirer in any case is 
almost inconceivable.” 

“What ineffable twaddle!” I cried, slapping the maga- 
zine down on the table; “I’ve never read such rubbish 
in my life.” 

“What is it?” asked Sherlock Holmes. 

“Why, this article,” I said, pointing at it with my egg- 
spoon as I sat down to my breakfast. “I see that you 
have read it, since you have marked it. I don’t deny 
that it is smartly written. It irritates me, though. It is 
evidently the theory of some armchair lounger who 
evolves all these neat little paradoxes in the seclusion of 
his own study. Itis not practical. I should like to see him 
clapped down in a third-class carriage on the Under- 
ground, and asked to give the trades of all his fellow- 
travelers. I would lay a thousand to one against him.” 

“You would lose your money,” Sherlock Holmes re- 
marked, calmly. “As for the article, I wrote it myself.” 

“Vou is ‘ 

“Yes; I have a turn both for observation and for 
deduction. The theories which I have expressed there, 
and which appear to you to be so chimerical, are really 
extremely practical—so practical that 1 depend upon them 
for my bread and cheese.”’ 


A STUDY IN SCARLET 17 


“And how?” I asked, involuntarily. 

“Well, I have a trade of my own. I suppose I am 
the only one in the world. I’m a consulting detective, 
if you can understand what that is. Here in London we 
have lots of government detectives and lots of private 
ones. When these fellows are at fault they come to me, 
and I manage to put them on the right scent. They lay 
all the evidence before me, and I am generally able, by 
the help of my knowledge of the history of crime, to set 
them straight. There is a strong family resemblance 
about misdeeds, and if you have all the details of a thou- 
sand at your finger-ends, it is odd if you can’t unravel 
the thousand and first. Lestrade is a well-known detec- 
tive. He got himself into a fog recently over a forgery 
case, and that was what brought him here.” 

“And these other people?” | 

“They are mostly sent out by private inquiry agencies. 
They are all people who are in trouble about something, 
and want a little enlightening. I listen to their story, they 
listen to my comments, and then I pocket my fee.” 

- “But do you mean to say,” I said, “that without leav- 

‘Ing your room you can unravel some knot which other 
men can make nothing of, although they have seen every 
detail for themselves ?” 

“Quite so. I have a kind of intuition that way. Now 
and again a case turns up which is a. little more complex. 
Then I have to bustle about and see things with my own 
eyes. You see, I have a lot of special knowledge which 
I apply to the problem, and which facilitates matters won- 
derfully. Those rules of deduction laid down in that 
article which aroused your scorn are invaluable to me in 
practical work. Observation with me is second nature. 
You appeared to be surprised when I told you, on our 
first meeting, that you had come from Afghanistan.” 

“You were told, no doubt.” 

“Nothing of the sort. I knew you were from Afghan- 
istan. From long habit the train of thought ran so 
swiftly through my mind that I arrived at the conclusion 
without being conscious of intermediate steps. There 


18 A STUDY IN SCARLET 


were such steps, however. The train of reasoning ran: 
“Here is a gentleman of a medical type, but with the air 
of a military man. Clearly an army doctor, then. He has 
just come from the tropics, for his face is dark, and that 
is not the natural tint of his skin, for his wrists are fair. 
He has undergone hardship and sickness, as his haggard 
face says clearly. His left arm has been injured. He 
holds it in a stiff and unnatural manner. Where in the 
tropics could an English army doctor have seen much 
hardship and got his arm wounded. Clearly in Afghan- 
istan.” The whole train of thought did not occupy a 
second. I then remarked that you came from Afghan- 
istan, and you were astonished.” 

“Tt is simple enough as you explain it,” I said, smil- 
ing. “You remind me of Edgar Allen Poe’s Dupin. 
I had no idea that such individuals did exist outside of 
stories.” 

Sherlock Holmes rose and lighted his pipe. 

“No doubt you think that you are complimenting me 
in comparing me to Dupin,” he observed. “Now, in 
my opinion, Dupin was a very inferior fellow. That trick 
of his of breaking in on his friends’ thoughts with an 
apropos remark after a quarter of an hour’s silence is 
really very showy and superficial. He had some analytical 
genius, no doubt; but he was by no means such a phe- 
nomenon as Poe appeared to imagine.” 

“Have you read Gaboriau’s works?” I asked. “Does 
Lecoq come up to your idea of a detective?” 

Sherlock Holmes sniffed sardonically. 

““Lecoq was a miserable bungler,” he said, in an angry 
voice; “he had only one thing to recommend him, and 
that was his energy. That book made me positively ill. 
The question was how to identify an unknown prisoner. 
I could have done it in twenty-four hours. Lecoq took 
six months or so. It might be made a text-book for 
detectives to teach what to avoid.” 

I felt rather indignant at having two characters whom I 
had admired treated in this cavalier style. I walked over 
to the window, and stood looking out into the busy street. 


A STUDY IN SCARLET 19 


“This fellow may be very clever,” I said to myself, “but 
he is certainly very conceited.” 

“There are no crimes and no criminals in these days,” 
he said, querulously. ‘What is the use of having brains 
in our profession? I know well that I have it in me to 
make my name famous. No man lives or has ever lived 
who has brought the same amount of study and of natural 
talent to be detection of crime which I have done. And 
what is the result? There is no crime to detect, or, at 
most, some bungling villainy with a motive so transparent 
that even a Scotland Yard official can see through it.” 

I was still annoyed at his bumptious style of conver- 
sation. I thought it best to change the topic. 

“I wonder what that fellow is looking for?’ I asked, 
pointing to a stalwart, plainly dressed individual who 
was walking slowly down the other side of the street, 
looking anxiously at the numbers. He had a large blue 
evelope in his hand, and was evidently the bearer of a 
message. 

“You mean the retired sergeant of marines,” said 
Sherlock Holmes. 

“Brag and bounce!” thought I to myself. “He knows 
that I cannot verify his guess.” 

The thought had hardly passed through my mind when 
the man whom we were watching caught sight. of the 
number on our door, and ran rapidly across the roadway. 
We heard a loud knock, a deep voice below, and heavy 
steps ascending the stair. 

“For Mr. Sherlock Holmes,” he said, stepping into 
the room and handing my friend the letter. 

Here was’an opportunity of taking the conceit out of 
him. He little thought of this when. he made that ran- 
dom shot. 

“May I ask, my lad,” I said, blandly, “what your trade 
may be?” 

“Commissionaire, sir,’ he said, gruffly. “Uniform. 
away for repairs.” 

“And you were?” I asked, with a slightly malicious 
glance at my companion. 


20 A STUDY IN SCARLET 


_“A sergeant, sir; Royal Marine Light Infantry, sir. 
No answer? Right, sir.” 

He clicked his heels together, raised his hand in a 
salute, and was gone. 


CHAPTER (Til 
THE LAURISTON GARDENS MYSTERY 


I conress that I was considerably startled by this fresh 
proof of the practical nature of my companion’s theories. 
My respect for his powers of analysis increased won- 
drously. There still remained some lurking suspicion in 
my mind, however, that the whole thing was a prearranged 
episode, intended to dazzle me, though what earthly ob- 
ject he could have in taking me in was past my compre- 
hension. When I looked at him he had finished reading 
the note, and his eyes had assumed the vacant, lack-luster 
expression which showed mental abstraction. 

“How in the world did you deduce that?” I asked. 

“Deduce what?” said he, petulantly. 

“Why, that he was a retired sergeant of marines.” 

“I have no time for trifles,’ he replied, brusquely; 
then, with a smile, “Excuse my rudeness. You broke 
the thread of my thoughts; but perhaps it is as well. So 
you actually were not able to see that that man was a 
sergeant of marines?” 

“No, indeed.” 

“It was easier to know it than to explain why I know 
it. If you were asked to prove that two and two made 
four, you might find some difficulty, and yet you are 
quite sure of the fact. Even across the street I could 
see'a great blue anchor tattooed on the back of the fel- 
low’s hand. That smacked of the sea. He had a military 
carriage, however, and regulation side-whiskers. There 
we have the marine. He was a man with some amount 
of self-importance and a certain air of command. You 
must have observed the way in which he held his head 
and swung his cane, A steady, respectable, middle-aged 


A STUDY IN SCARLET 21 


man, too, on the face of him—all facts which led me to 
believe that he had been a sergeant.” 

“Wonderful!” I ejaculated. 

“Commonplace,” said Holmes, though I thought from 
his expression that he was pleased at my evident sur- 
prise and admiration. “I said just now that there were 
no criminals. It appears that I am wrong—look at this!’ 
He threw me over the note which the commissionaire had 
brought. 

“Why,” I cried, as I cast my eye over it, “this is 
terrible!” 

“It does seem to be a little out of the common,” he 
remarked, calmly. “Would you mind reading it to me 
aloud ?” 

This is the letter which I read to him: 


“My Dear Mr. SHERLocK HoLmEs: 

“There has been a bad business during the night at 
3 Lauriston Gardens, off the Brixton road. Our man 
on the beat saw a light there about two in the morning, 
and, as the house was an empty one, suspected that some- 
thing was amiss. He found the door open, and in the 
front room, which is bare of furniture, discovered the 
body of a gentleman, well dressed, and having cards in 
his pocket bearing the name of ‘Enoch J. Drebber, Cleve- 
land, Ohio, U. S. A.’ There had been no robbery, nor 
is there any evidence as to how the man met his death. 
There are marks of blood in the room, but there is no 
wound upon his person. We are at a loss as to how 
he came into the empty house; indeed, the whole affair 
is a puzzler. If you can come round to the house any 
time before twelve, you will find me there. I have left 
everything ‘in statu quo’ until I hear from you. If you 
are unable to come [ shall give you fuller details, and 
would esteem it a great kindness if you would favor 
me with your opinion. 
“Yours faithfully, 

“ToBIAS GREGSON.” 


“Gregson is the smartest of the Scotland Yarders,” 
my friend remarked; “he and Lestrade are the pick of 


22 A STUDY IN SCARLET 


a bad lot. They are both quick and energetic, but con- 
ventional—shockingly so. They have their knives into 
each other, too. They are as jealous as a pair of pro- 
fessional beauties. There will be some fun over this 
case if they are both put upon the scent.” 

{ was amazed at the calm way in which he rippled on. 

“Surely there is not a moment to be lost,” I cried; 
“shall I go and order you a cab?” 

“Tam not sure about whether I shall go. I am the 
most incurably lazy devil that ever stood in shoe-leather 
——that is, when the fit is on me, for I can be spry enough 
at times.”’ 

“Why, it is just such a chance as you have been long- 
ing for.” 

“My dear fellow, what does it matter to me? Sup- 
posing I unravel the whole matter, you may be sure that 
Gregson, Lestrade & Co. will pocket all the credit. That 
comes of being an unofficial personage.” 

“But he begs you to help him,” 

“Yes. He knows that I am his superior, and acknowl- 
edges it to me; but he would cut his tongue out before 
he would own it to any third person. However, we may 
as well go and have a look. I shall work it out on my 
own hook. I may have a laugh at them, if I have nothing 
else. Come on!” 

He hustled on his overcoat, and bustled about in a way 
that showed that an energetic fit had superseded the 
apathetic one. 

“Get your hat,” he said. 

“You wish me to come?” 

“Yes, if you have nothing better to do.” 

A minute later we were both in a hansom, driving 
furiously for the Brixton road. 

It was a foggy, cloudy morning, and a dun-colored 
veil hung over the house-tops, looking like the reflection 
of the mud-colored streets beneath. My companion was 
in the best of spirits, and prattled away about Cremona 
fiddles, and the difference between a Stradivarius and an 
Amati. As for myself, I was silent, for the dull weather 


A STUDY IN SCARLET 23 


and the melancholy business upon which we were en- 
gaged depressed my spirits. 

“You don’t seem to give much thought to the matter 
in hand,” I said at last, interrupting Holmes’ musical 
disquisition. 

“No data yet,’ he answered. “It is a capital mis- 
take to theorize before you have all the evidence. It 
biases the judgment.” 

“You will have your data soon,’ I remarked, point- 
ing with my finger; “this is the Brixton road, and that 
is the house, if I am not very much mistaken.” 

“So it is. Stop, driver, stop!” We were still a hun- 
dred yards or so from it, but he insisted upon our alight- 
ing, and we finished our journey upon foot. 

No. 3 Lauriston Gardens wore an il-omened and 
minatory look. It was one of four which stood back 
some little way from the street, two being occupied and 
two empty. The latter looked out with three tiers of 
vacant, melancholy windows, which were blank and 
dreary, save that here and there a “To Let” card had 
developed like a cataract upon the bleared panes. A 
small garden sprinkled over with a scattered eruption 
of sickly plants separated each of these houses from 
the street, and was traversed by a narrow pathway, 
yellowish in color, and consisting apparently of a mix- 
ture of clay and gravel. The whole place was very 
sloppy from the rain which had fallen through the night. 
The garden was bounded by a three-foot brick wall, with 
a fringe of wood rails upon the top, and against this 
wall was leaning a stalwart police constable, surrounded 
by a small knot of loafers, who craned their necks and 
strained their eves in the vain hope of catching some 
glimpse of the proceedings within. 

I had imagined that Sherlock Holmes would at once 
have hurried into the house and plunged into a study 
of the mystery. Nothing appeared to be further from 
his intention. With an air of nonchalance which, under 
the circumstances, seemed to me to border upon affecta- 
tion, he lounged up and down the pavement, and gazed 
vacantly at the ground, the sky, the opposite houses, and 


24 A STUDY IN SCARLET 


— 


the line of railings. Having finished his scrutiny, he 
proceeded slowly down the path, or, rather, down the 
fringe of grass which flanked the path, keeping his eyes 
riveted upon the ground. Twice he stopped, and once 
I saw him smile and heard him utter an exclamation of 
satisfaction. There were many marks of footsteps upon 
the wet, clayey soil, but since the police had been coming 
and going over it I was unable to see how my companion 
could hope to learn anything from it. Still, I had had 
such extraordinary evidence of the quickness of his per- 
ceptive faculties that I had no doubt that he could see a 
great deal which was hidden from me. 

At the door of the house we were met by a tall, white- 
faced, flaxen-haired man, with a notebook in his hand, 
who rushed forward and wrung my companion’s hand 
with effusion. | 

“It is indeed kind of you to come,” he said; “I have 
had everything left untouched.” 

“Except that!” my friend answered, pointing to the 
pathway. “Ifa herd of buffaloes had passed along there 
could not be a greater mess. No doubt, however, you 
had drawn your own conclusions, Gregson, before you 
permitted this.” 

“T have had so much to do inside the house,” the de- 
tective said, evasively. “My colleague, Mr. Lestrade, 
is here. I had relied upon him to look after this.” 

Holmes glanced at me, and raised his eyebrows sar- 
donically. 

“With two such men as yourself and Lestrade upon 
the ground, there will not be much for a third party to 
find out,” he said. 

Gregson rubbed his hands in a self-satisfied way. 

“I think we have done all that can be done,” he an- 
swered; “it’s a queer case, though, and I knew your taste 
for such things.” 

“You did not come here in a cab?’ asked Sherlock 
Holmes, 

“No, sit.” 

“Nor Lestrade?’ 

VINO, Sit” 


A STUDY IN SCARLET 25 


“Then let us go and look at the room.” 

With this inconsequent remark he strode on into the 
house, followed by Gregson, whose features expressed 
his astonishment. 

A short passage, bare planked and dusty, led to the 
kitchen and offices. Two doors opened out of it to the 
left and to the right. One of these had obviously been 
closed for many weeks. The other belonged to the 
dining-room, which was the apartment in which the 
mysterious affair had occurred. Holmes walked in, and 
I followed him with that subdued feeling at my heart 
which the presence of death inspires. 

It was a large, square room, looking all the larger 
for the absence of all furniture. A vulgar, flaring paper 
adorned the walls, but it was blotched. in places with 
mildew, and here and there strips had become detached 
and hung down, exposing the yellow plaster beneath. 
Opposite the door was a showy fireplace, surmounted 
by a mantlepiece of imitation white marble. On one 
corner of this stuck the stump of a red wax candle. The 
solitary window was so dirty that the light was hazy 
and uncertain, giving a dull-gray tinge to everything, 
which was intensified by the thick layer of dust which 
coated the whole apartment. 

All these details I observed afterward. At present my 
attention was centered upon the single grim, motionless 
figure which lay stretched upon the boards, with vacant, 
sightless eyes staring up at the discolored ceiling. It 
was that of a man about forty-three or forty-four years 
of age, middle-sized, broad-shouldered, with crisp, curling 
black hair, and a short, stubby beard. He was dressed 
in a heavy broadcloth frock-coat and waistcoat, with light- 
colored trousers and immaculate collar and cuffs. A top- 
hat, well brushed and trim, was placed upon the floor 
beside him. His hands were clinched and his arms 
thrown abroad, while his lower limbs were interlocked, 
as though his death-struggle had been a grievous one. 
On his rigid face there stood an expression of horror, 
and, as it seemed to me, of hatred, such as I] have never 
seen upon human features. This malignant and ter- 


26 A STUDY IN SCARLET 


rible contortion, combined with the low forehead, blunt 
nose, and prognathous jaw, gave the dead man a singu- 
larly simous and ape-like appearance, which was in- 
creased by his writhing, unnatural posture. I have seen 
death in many forms, but never has it appeared to me 
in a more fearsome aspect than in that dark, grimy apart- 
ment, which looked out upon one of the main arteries 
of suburban London. Lestrade, lean and ferret-like 
as ever, was standing by the doorway, and greeted my 
companion and myself. 

“This case will make a stir, sir,’ he remarked. “It 
beats anything I have seen, and I am no chicken,” 

“There is no clew,”’ said Gregson. 

“None at all,” chimed in Lestrade. 

Sherlock Holmes approached the body, and, kneeling 
down, examined it intently. 

“You are sure that there is no wound?” he asked, 
pointing to numerous gouts and splashes of blood which 
lay all around. 

“Positive!” cried both detectives. 

“Then, of course, this blood belongs to a second in- 
dividual—presumably the murderer, if murder has been 
committed. It reminds me of the circumstances attendant 
on the death of Van Jansen, in Utrecht, in the year 734. 
Do you remember the case, Gregson?” 

CNG, UST. 

“Read it up—you really should. There is nothing 
new under the sun. It has all been done before.” 

As he spoke his nimble fingers were flying here, there, 
and everywhere, feeling, pressing, unbuttoning, examin- 
ing, while his eyes wore the same far-away expression 
which I have already remarked upon. So swiftly was 
the examination made that one would hardly have guessed 
the minuteness with which it was conducted. Finally 
he sniffed the dead man’s lips, and then glanced at the 
soles of his patent-leather boots. 

“He has not been moved at all?” he asked: 

“No more than was necessary for the purpose of our 
examination.” " 


A STUDY IN SCARLET 27 


“You can take him to the mortuary now,” he said. 
“There is nothing more to be learned.” 

Gregson had a stretcher and four men at hand. At 
his call they entered the room, and the stranger was lifted 
and carried out. As they raised him a ring tinkled down 
and rolled across the floor. Lestrade grabbed it up and 

stared at it with mystified eyes. 
_ “There’s been a woman here,” he cried. “It’s a wo- 
man’s wedding ring.” 

He held it out as he spoke upon the palm of his hand. 
We all gathered round him and gazed at it. There could 
be no doubt that that circle of plain gold had once adorned 
the finger of a bride. 

“This complicates matters,” said Gregson. “Heaven 
knows, they were complicated enough before!” 

“You’re sure it doesn’t simplify them?’ observed 
Holmes. “There’s nothing to be learned by staring at 
it. What did you find in his pockets?” 

“We have it all here,” said Gregson, pointing to a litter 
of objects upon one of the bottom steps of the stairs. 
“A gold watch, No. 97,163, by Barraud, of London; gold 
Albert chain, very heavy and solid; gold ring, with 
Masonic device; gold pin, bulldog’s head, with rubies as 
eyes; Russian-leather card-case, with cards of Enoch J. 
Drebber, of Cleveland, corresponding with the E. J. D. 
upon the linen; no purse, but loose money to the extent 
of seven pounds thirteen; pocket edition of Boccaccio’s 
‘Decameron, with name of Joseph Stangerson upon 
the fly-leaf; two letters, one addressed to E. J. Drebber 
and one to Joseph Stangerson.” 

“At what address?” 

“American Exchange, Strand; to be left till called for. 
They are both from the Guion Steamship Company, and 
refer to the sailing of their boats from Liverpool. It 
is clear that this unfortunate man was about to return 
to New York.” 

“Have you made any inquiries as to this man Stan- 
gerson?” 

“T did it at once, sir,” said Gregson. “I have had 


28 ‘A STUDY IN SCARLET 


advertisements sent to all the newspapers, and one of 
my men has gone to the American Exchange, but he has 
not returned yet.” 

“Have you sent to Cleveland?” 

“We telegraphed this morning.” 

“How did you word your inquiries?” 

“We simply detailed the circumstances, and said that 
we should be glad of any information which could help 
us.” 
“You did not ask for particulars on any point which 
appeared to you to be crucial ?” 

“T asked about Stangerson.”’ 

“Nothing else? Is there no circumstance on which 
this whole case appears to hinge? Will you not tele- 
graph again?” 

“T have said all I have to say,” said Gregson, in an 
offended voice. 

Sherlock Holmes chuckled to himself, and appeared 
to be about to make some remark, when Lestrade, who 


had been in the front room while we were holding this 


conversation in the hall, reappeared upon the scene, rub-~ 
bing his hands in a pompous and self-satisfied manner. 

“Mr. Gregson,” he said, “I have just made a discov- 
ery of the highest importance, and one which would have 
been overlooked had I not made a careful examination 
of the walls.” : 

The little man’s eyes sparkled as he spoke, and he was 
evidently in a state of suppressed exultation at having 
scored a point against his colleague. 

“Come here,” he said, bustling back into the room, 
the atmosphere of which felt cleaner since the removal 
of its ghastly inmate. “Now, stand there!” 

He struck a match on his boot and held it up against 
the wail. 

“Look at that!’ he said, triumphantly. 

I have remarked that the paper had fallen away in 
parts. In this particular corner of the room a large 
piece had peeled off, leaving a yellow square of coarse 
plastering. Across this bare space there was scrawled 
in blood-red letters a single word: 


A STUDY IN SCARLET 29 


RACHE 


“What do you think of that?’ cried the detective, 
with the air of a showman exhibiting his show. “This 
was overlooked because it was in the darkest corner of 
the room, and no one thought of looking there. The 
murderer has written it with his or her own blood. See 
this smear where it has trickled down the wall! That 
disposes of the idea of suicide, anyhow. Why was that 
corner chosen to write it on? I will tell you. See that 
candle on the mantlepiece? It was lighted at the time, 
and if it was lighted this corner would be the brightest 
instead of the darkest portion of the wall.” 

“And what does it mean, now that you have found it?” 
asked Gregson, in a depreciatory voice. 

“Mean? Why, it means that the writer was going 
to put the female name Rachel, but was disturbed be- 
fore he or she had time to finish. You mark my words, 
when this case comes to be cleared up you will find that 
a woman named Rachel has something to do with it. It’s 
all very well for you to laugh, Mr. Sherlock Holmes. 
You may be very smart and clever, but the old hound is 
the best, when all is said and done.” 

“T really beg your pardon,” said my companion, who 
had ruffled the little man’s temper by bursting into an 
explosion of laughter. “You certainly have the credit 
of being the first of us to find this out, and, as you say, 
it bears every mark of having been written by the other 
participant in last night’s mystery. I have not had time 
to examine this room yet, but with your permission I 
shall do so now.” 

As he spoke he whipped a tape-measure and a large 
round magnifying glass from his pocket. With these 
two implements he trotted noiselessly about the room, 
sometimes stopping, occasionally kneeling, and once lying 
flat upon his face. So engrossed was he with his occupa- 
tion that he appeared to have forgotten our presence, 
for he chattered away to himself under his breath the 
whole time, keeping up a running fire of exclamations, 
groans, whistles, and little cries suggestive of encourage- 


30 A STUDY IN SCARLET 


ment and of hope. As I watched him I was irresistibly 
reminded of a pure-blooded, well-trained foxhound as 
it dashes backward and forward through the covert, 
whining in its eagerness, until it comes across the lost 
scent. For twenty minutes or more he continued his 
researches, measuring with the most exact care the dis- 
tance between marks which were entirely invisible to me, 
and occasionally applying his tape to the walls in an 
equally incomprehensible manner. In one place he gath- 
ered very carefully a little pile of gray dust from the floor, 
and packed it away in an envelope. Finally he examined 
with his glass the word upon the wall, going over every 
letter of it with the most minute exactness. This done, 
he appeared to be satisfied, for he replaced his tape and 
his glass in his pocket. 

“They say that genius is an infinite capacity for tak- 
ing pains,” he remarked, with a smile. “It’s a very bad 
definition, but it does apply to detective work.” 

Gregson and Lestrade had watched the manceuvres of 
their amateur companion with considerable curiosity and 
some contempt. They evidently failed to appreciate the 
fact, which I had begun to realize, that Sherlock Holmes’ 
smallest actions were all directed toward some definite 
and practical end. 

“What do you think of it, sir?” they both asked. 

“It would be robbing you of the credit of the case if 
I were to presume to help you,’ remarked my friend. 
“You are doing so well now that it would be a pity for 
any one to interfere.” There was a world of sarcasm 
in his voice as he spoke. “If you will let me know how 
your investigations go,” he continued, “I shall be happy 
to give you any help I can. In the meantime I should 
like to speak to the constable who found the body. Can 
you give me his name and address?” 

Lestrade glanced at his notebook. 

“John Rance,” he said. “He’s off duty now. You 
ps find him at 46 Audley Court, Kennington Park 

ate.” 

Holmes took a note of the address. “Come along, 
doctor,” he said; “we shall go and look him up. I'll 


A STUDY IN SCARLET 31 


tell you one thing which may help you in the case,” he 
continued, turning to the two detectives. “There has 
been murder done, and the murderer was a man. He 
was more than six feet high, was in the prime of life, 
had small feet for his height, wore coarse, square-toed 
boots, and smoked a Trichinopoly cigar. He came here 
with his victim in a four-wheeled cab, which was drawn 
by a horse with three old shoes, and one new one on 
his off fore-leg. In all probability the murderer had a 
florid face, and the finger nails of his right hand were 
remarkably long. These are only a few indications, but 
they may assist you.” 

Lestrade and Gregson glanced at each other with an 
incredulous smile. 

“Tf this man was murdered, how was it done?” asked 
the former. 

“Poison,” said Sherlock Holmes, curtly, and strode 
off. “One other thing, Lestrade,” he added, turning 
round at the door: “ ‘Rache’ is the German for ‘revenge’ ; 
so don’t lose your time looking for Miss Rachel.” 

With which Parthian shot he walked away, leaving 
the two rivals open-mouthed behind him, 


CHAPTER IV 
WHAT JOHN RANCE HAD TO TELL 


Ir was one o'clock when we left No. 3 Lauriston 
Gardens. Sherlock Holmes led me to the nearest tele- 
graph office, whence he dispatched a long telegram. He 
then hailed a cab, and ordered the driver to take us to 
the address given us by Lestrade. 

“There is nothing like first-hand evidence,” he re- 
marked; “as a matter of fact, my mind is entirely made 
up upon the case, but still we may as well learn all that 
is to be learned.” 

“You amaze me, Holmes,” said I. “Surely you are 
not as sure as you pretend to be of all those particulars 
which you gave.” 

“There’s no room for a mistake,” he answered. “The 


32 A STUDY IN SCARLET 


~_ 


very first thing which I observed on arriving there was — 
that a cab had made two ruts with its wheels close to the 
curb. Now, up to last night, we have had no rain for a 
week, so that those wheels, which left such a deep im- 
pression, must have been there during the night. There 
were the marks of a horse’s hoofs, too, the outline of one 
of which was far more clearly cut than that of the other 
three, showing that that was a new shoe. Since the cab 
was there after the rain began, and was not there at any 
time during the morning—I have Gregson’s word for it— 
it follows that it must have been there during the night, 
and, therefore, that it brought those two individuals to 
the house.” 

“That seems simple enough,” said I; “but how about 
the other man’s height ?” 

“Why, the height of a man, in nine cases out of ten, 
can be told from the length of his stride. It is a sim- 
ple calculation enough, though there is no use my bor- 
ing you with figures. I had this fellow’s stride, both on 
the clay outside and on the dust within. Then I had a 
way of checking my calculation. When a man writes 
on a wall, his instinct leads him to write about the level 
of his own eyes. Now, that writing was just over six 
feet from the ground. It was child’s play.” 

“And his age?’ I asked. 

“Well, if a man can stride four and a half feet with- 
out the smallest effort, he can’t be quite in the sere and 
yellow. That was the breadth of a puddle on the gar- 
den walk which he had evidently walked across. Pat- 
ent-leather boots had gone round and Square-toes had 
hopped over. There is no mystery about it at all. I 
am simply applying to ordinary life a few of those pre- 
cepts of observation and deduction which I advocated 
in that article. Is there anything else that puzzles you?’ 

“The finger nails and the Trichinopoly,” I suggested. 

“The writing on the wall was done with a man’s fore- 
finger dipped in blood. My glass allowed me to observe 
that the plaster was slightly scratched in doing it, which 
would not have been the case if the man’s nail had been 
trimmed. I gathered up some scattered ashes from the 


A STUDY. IN SCARLET 33 


floor. It was dark in color and flaky—such an ash as is 
only made by a Trichinopoly. I have made a special 
study of cigar ashes—in fact, I have written a mono- 
graph upon the subject. I flatter myself that I can dis- 
tinguish at a glance the ash of any known brand either 
of cigar or tobacco. It is in just such details that the 
skilled detective differs from the Gregson and Lestrade 
type.” 

“And the florid face?” I asked. 

“Ah, that was a more daring shot, though I have no 
doubt that I was right. You must not ask me that at 
the present state of the affair.” / 

I passed my hand over my brow. 

“My head is in a whirl,’ I remarked; “the more one 
thinks of it, the more mysterious it grows. How came 
these two men—if there were two men—into an empty 
house? What has become of the cabman who drove 
them? How could one man compel another to take poi- 
son? Where did the blood come from? What was the 
object of the murderer, since robbery had no part in it? 
How came the woman’s ring there? Above all, why 
should the second man write up the German word ‘Rache’ 
before decamping? I confess that I cannot see any pos- 
sible way of reconciling these facts.” 

My companion smiled approvingly. 

“You sum up the difficulties of the situation succinctly 
and well,” he said. ‘There is much that is still obscure, 
though I have quite made up my mind on the main facts. 
As to poor Lestrade’s discovery, it was simply a blind 
intended to put the police upon a wrong track, by sug- 
gesting socialism and secret societies. It was not done 
by a German. The A, if you noticed, was printed some- 
what after the German fashion. Now, a real German 
invariably prints in the Latin character, so that we may 
safely say that this was not written by one, but by a 
clumsy imitator, who overdid his part. It was simply a 
ruse, to divert inquiry into a wrong channel. I’m not 
going to tell you much more of the case, doctor. You 
know a conjurer gets no credit when once he has ex- 
plained his trick, and if I show you too much of my 


34 A STUDY IN SCARLET 


method of working, you will come to the conclusion that 
I am a very ordinary individual after all.” 

“T shall never do that,” I answered; “‘you have brought 
detection as near an exact science as it ever will be brought 
in this world.” 

My companion flushed up with pleasure at my words 
and the earnest way in which I uttered them. I had 
already observed that he was as sensitive to flattery on 
the score of his art as any girl could be of her beauty. 

“Tl tell you one other thing,” he said. “Patent-leathers 
and Square-toes came in the same cab, and they walked 
down the pathway together as friendly as possible— 
arm-in-arm, in all probability. When they got inside 
they walked up and down the room—or, rather, Patent- 
leathers stood still, while Square-toes walked up and 
down. I could read all that in the dust; and I could 
read that, as he walked, he grew more and more ex- 
cited. That is shown by the increased length of his 
strides. He was talking all the while, and working him- 
self up, no doubt, into a fury. Then the tragedy oc- 
curred. I’ve told you all I know myself, now, for the 
rest is mere surmise and conjecture. We have a good 
working basis, however, on which to start. We must 
hurry up, for I want to go to Halle’s concert, to hear 
Norman Neruda, this afternoon.” 

This conversation had occurred while our cab had been 
threading its way through a long succession of dingy 
streets and dreary by-ways. In the dingiest and drear- 
iest of them our driver suddenly came to a stand. 

“That’s Audley Court in there,’ he said, pointing to a 
narrow slit in the line of a dead-colored brick. “You'll 
find me here when you come back.” 

Audley Court was not an attractive locality. The nar- 
row passage led us into a quadrangle paved with flags and 
lined by sordid dwellings. We picked our way among 
groups of dirty children and through lines of discolored 
linen until we came to No. 46,,the door of which was 
decorated with a small slip of brass, on which the name 
Rance was engraved. On inquiry we found that the 


A STUDY IN SCARLET 35 


constable was in bed, and we were shown into a little 
front parlor to await his coming. 

He appeared presently, looking a little irritable at being 
disturbed in his slumbers. 

“T made my report at the office,” he said. 

Holmes took a half-sovereign from his pocket and 
played with it pensively. 

“We thought that we should like to hear it all from 
your own lips,” he said. 

“JT shall be most happy to tell you anything I can,” the 
constable answered, with his eyes upon the little golden 
disk. 

“Just let me hear it all in your own way, as it occurred.” 

Rance sat down on the horse-hair sofa and knitted his 
brows, as though determined not to omit anything in 
his narrative. 

“Tl tell it ye from the beginning,” he said. “My time 
is from ten at night to six in the morning. At eleven 
there was a fight at the White Hart; but, bar that, all 
was quiet enough on the beat. At one o’clock it began 
to rain, and I met Harry Murcher—him who has the 
Holland Grove beat—and we stood together at the cor- 
ner of Henrietta Street a-talkin’, Presently—maybe 
about two, or a little after—I thought I would take a 
look round, and see that all was right down the Brixton 
Road. It was precious dirty and lonely. Not a soul did 
I meet all the way down, though a cab or two went 
past me. I was a-strollin’ down, thinkin’, between our- 
selves, how uncommon handy a four of gin hot would 
be, when suddenly a glint of light caught my eye in the 
window of that same house. Now, I knew that them 
two houses in Lauriston Gardens was empty on account 
of him that owns them, who won’t have the drains seed 
to, though the very last tenant what lived in one of them 
died o’ typhoid fever. I was knocked all in a heap, there- 
fore, at seeing a light in the window, and I suspected 
as something was wrong. When I got to the door 

“You stopped, and then walked back to the garden 
gate,” my companion interrupted. “What did you do 
that for?” 


36 A STUDY IN SCARLET 


Rance gave a violent jump, and stared at Sherlock 
Holmes, with the utmost amazement upon his features. 

“Why, that’s true, sir,’ he said; “though how you 
come to know it, Heaven only knows! Ye see, when 
I got up to the door, it was so still and so lonesome that 
I thought I’d be none the worse for some one with me. 
I ain’t afeard of anything on this side o’ the grave; but 
I thought that maybe it was him that died 0’ the typhoid, 
inspecting the drains what killed him. The thought gave 
me a kind o’ turn, and I walked back to the gate to see 
if I could see Murcher’s lantern, but there wasn’t no 
sign of him nor of any one else.” 

“There was no one in the street ?” . 

“Not a livin’ soul, sir, nor as much as a dog. Then 
I pulled myself together and went back and pushed the 
door open. All was quiet inside, so I went into the room © 
where the light was a-burnin’, There was a candle flick- 
erin’ on the mantelpiece—a red wax one—and by its light 
I saw ig 

“Yes, I know all that you saw. You walked round 
the room several times, and you knelt down by the body, 
and then you walked through and tried the kitchen door, 
and then 

John Rance sprang to his feet with a frightened face 
and suspicion in his eyes. 

“Where was you hid to see all that?” he cried. “It 
seems to me that you knows a deal more than you 
should.” 

Holmes laughed, and threw his card across the table 
to the constable. 

“Don’t get arresting me for the murder,” he. said. 
Len, one ie; the hounds, and not the wolf; Mr. Greg- 
son or Mr. Lestrade will answer for that, Go on, 
though. What did you do next?’ 

Rance resumed his seat, without, however, losing his 
mystified expression. 

“I went back to the gate and sounded my whistle. 
That brought Murcher and two more to the spot.” 

“Was the street empty then?” 


A STUDY IN SCARLET 37 


“Well, it was, as far as anybody that could be of any 
good goes.” 

“What do you mean?” 

The constable’s features broadened into a grin. 

“T’ve seen many a drunk chap in my time,” he said, 
“but never any one so cryin’ drunk as that cove. He 
was at the gate when I came out, a-leanin’ up agin the 
railin’s and a-singin’ at the pitch of his lungs about 
Columbine’s new-fangled banner, or some such stuff. He 
couldn’t stand, far less help.” 

“What sort of a man was he?” asked Sherlock Holmes. 

John Rance appeared to be somewhat irritated at this 
digression. 

“He was an uncommon drunk sort o’ man,” he said. 
“He’d ha’ found hisself in the station if we hadn’t been 
so took up.” 

“His face—his dress—didn’t you notice them?’ 
Holmes broke in, impatiently. 

“T should think I did notice them, seeing that I had 
to prop him up—me and Murcher between us. He was 
a long chap, with a red face, the lower part muffled 
round G 

“That will do,’ cried Holmes. ‘“‘What became of 
him?” 

“We'd enough to do without lookin’ after him,” the 
policeman said, in an aggrieved voice. “I'll wager he 
found his way home all right.” 

“How was he dressed?” 

“A brown overcoat.” 

“Had he a whip in his hand?” 

“A whip? no.” 

“He must have left it behind,’ muttered my compan- 
ion. “You didn’t happen to see or hear a cab after that?” 

NO. 

“There’s a half-sovereign for you,’ my companion 
said, standing up and taking his hat. “I am afraid, Rance, 
that you will never rise in the force. That head of 
yours should be for use as well as ornament. You 
might have gained your sergeant’s stripes last night. The 
man whom you held in your hands is the man who holds 


38 A STUDY IN SCARLET 


the clue of this mystery, and whom we are seeking. 
There is no use of arguing about it now; I tell you 
that it is so. Come along, doctor.” 

We started off for the cab together, leaving our in- 
formant incredulous, but obviously uncomfortable. 

“The blundering fool!’ Holmes said, bitterly, as we 
drove back to our lodgings. “Just to think of his having 
such an incomparable bit of good luck, and not taking 
advantage of it.” 

“I am rather in the dark still. It is true that the de- 
scription of this man tallies with your idea of the second 
party in this mystery. But why should he come back to 
the house after leaving it? This is not the way of crim- 
inals.”’ 

“The ring, man, the ring; that was what he came back 
for. If we have no other way of catching him, we can 
always bait our line with the ring. I shall have him, 
doctor—l'll lay you two to one that I have him. I must 
thank you for it all; I might not have gone but for you, 
and so have missed the finest study I ever came across—a 
study in scarlet, eh? Why shouldn’t we use a little art 
jargon? There’s the scarlet thread of murder running 
through the colorless skein of life, and our duty is to 
unravel it, and isolate it, and expose every inch of it. And 
now for lunch, and then for Norman Neruda. Her attack 
and her bowing are splendid. What's that little thing of 
Chopin’s she plays so magnificently: Tra-la-la-lira-lira- 
lay.” 

Leaning back in the cab, this amateur bloodhound car- 
oled away like a lark, while I meditated upon the many- 
sidedness of the human mind. 


CHAPTER V 
OUR ADVERTISEMENT BRINGS A VISITOR 


Our morning’s exertions had been too much for my 
weak health, and I was tired out in the afternoon. After 
Holmes’ departure for the concert I lay down upon the 
sofa and endeavored to get a couple of hours’ sleep. It 


A STUDY IN SCARLET 39 


was a useless attempt. My mind had been too much 
excited by all that had occurred, and the strangest fan- 
cies and surmises crowded into it. Every time that I 
closed my eyes I saw before me the distorted, baboon-like 
countenance of the murdered man. So sinister was the 
impression which that face produced upon me that I found 
it difficult to feel anything but gratitude for him who had 
removed its owner from the world. If ever human fea- 
tures bespoke vice of the most malignant type, they were 
certainly those of Enoch J. Drebber, of Cleveland. Still, 
I recognized that justice must be done, and that the de- 
ptavity of the victim was no condonement in the eyes of 
the law. 

The more I thought of it the more extraordinary did 
my companion’s hypothesis, that the man had been poi- 
soned, appear. I remembered how he had sniffed his 
lips, and had no doubt that he had detected something 
which had given rise to the idea. Then, again, if not 
poison, what had caused the man’s death, since there was 
neither wound nor marks of strangulation? But, on the 
other hand, whose blood was that which lay so thickly 
upon the floor? There were no signs of a struggle, nor 
had the victim any weapon with which he might have 
wounded an antagonist. As long as all these questions 
were unsolved I felt that sleep would be no easy matter, 
either for Holmes or myself. His quiet, self-confident 
manner convinced me that he had already formed a theory 
which explained all the facts, though what it was I could 
not for an instant conjecture. 

He was very late in returning—so late that I knew that 
the concert could not have detained him all the time. 
Dinner was on the table before he appeared. 

“Tt was magnificent,” he said, as he took his seat. “Do 
you remember what Darwin says about music? He claims 
that the power of producing and appreciating it existed 
among the human race long before the power of speech 
was arrived at. Perhaps that is why we are so subtly 
influenced by it. There are vague memories in our souls 
of those misty centuries when the world was in its child- 
hood.” 


40 A STUDY IN SCARLET 


“That’s rather a broad idea,” I remarked. 

“One’s ideas must be as broad as Nature if they are 
to interpret Nature,” he answered. ‘“What’s the matter? 
You're not looking quite yourself. This Brixton Road 
affair has upset you.” 

“To tell the truth, it has,” I said. (“2 @upht to be 
more case-hardened after my Afghan experiences. I 
saw my own comrades hacked to pieces at Maiwand with- 
out losing my nerve.” 

“TI can understand. There is a mystery about this 
which stimulates the imagination; where there is no im- 
agination there is no horror. Have you seen the evening © 
paper ?” 

Ne 

“It gives a fairly good account of the affair. It does 
not mention the fact that when the man was raised up a 
woman’s wedding ring fell upon the floor. It is just as 
well it does. not.” 

“Why e? 

“Look at this advertisement,’ he answered. “I had 
one sent to every paper this morning immediately after 
the affair.” 

He threw the paper across to me, and I glanced at the 
place indicated. It was the first announcement in the 
“Found’’ column. 

“In Brixton Road,” it ran, “a plain gold wedding ring, 
found in the roadway between the White Hart Tavern 
and Holland Grove. Apply Dr. Watson, 221B Baker 
Street, between eight and nine this evening.” 

“Excuse my using your name,” he said. “If I used 
my own some one of these dunderheads would recognize 
it, and want to meddle in the affair.” 

“That is all right,” I answered. “But supposing any 
one applies, I have no ring.” (ge 

“Oh, yes, you have,” said he, handing me one. “This 
will do very well. It is almost a fac-simile. 

“And who do you expect will answer this advertise- 
ment ?” 

“Why, the man in the brown coat—our florid friend 


A STUDY IN SCARLET 4Y 


with the square toes. If he does not come himself he 
will send an accomplice.” 

“Would he not consider it as too dangerous?” 

“Not at all. If my view of the case is correct, and 
I have every reason to believe that it is, this man would 
rather risk anything than lose the ring. According to 
my notion he dropped it while stooping over Drebber’s 
body, and did not miss it at the time. After leaving the 
house he discovered his loss, and hurried back, but found 
the police already in possession, owing to his own folly 
in leaving the candle burning. He had to pretend to be 
drunk in order to allay the suspicions which might have 
been aroused by his appearance at the gate. Now, put 
yourself in that man’s place. On thinking the matter 
over, it must have occurred to him that it was possible 
that he had lost the ring in the road after leaving the 
house. What would he do then? He would eagerly look 
out for the evening paper, in the hope of seeing it among 
the articles found. His eye, of course, would light upon 
this. He would be overjoyed. Why should he fear a 
trap? There would be no reason in his eyes why the 
finding of the ring should be connected with the murder. 
He would come. He will come. You shall see him 
within arm hour.” 

“And then?’ I asked. 

“Oh, you can leave me to deal with him then. Have 
you any arms?” 

“T have my old service revolver and a few cartridges.” 

“You had better clean it and load it. He will be a 
desperate man, and, though I shall take him unawares, 
it is as well to be ready for anything.” 

I went to my bedroom and followed his advice. When 
I returned with the pistol the table had been cleared, and 
Holmes was engaged in his favorite occupation of scrap- 
ing upon his violin. 

“The plot thickens,” he said, as I entered. “I have 
just had an answer to my American telegram. My view 
of the case is the correct one.” 

“And that is?” I asked, eagerly. 

“My fiddle would be the better for new strings,” he 


42 A STUDY IN SCARLET 


remarked. “Put your pistol in your pocket. When the 
fellow comes, speak to him in an ordinary way. Leave 
the rest to me. Don’t frighten him by looking at him 
too hard.” 

“Tt is eight o’clock now,” I said, glancing at my watch. 

“Yes. He will probably be here in a few minutes. 
Open the door slightly. That will do. Now put the 
key on the inside. Thank you! This is a queer old 
book I picked up at a stall yesterday—‘De Jure inter 
Gentes’—published in Latin at Liege in the Lowlands, 
in 1642. Charles’ head was still firm on his shoulders 
when this little brown-backed volume was struck off.” 

“Who is the printer?” 

“Philippe de Croy, whoever he may have been. On 
the fly-leaf, in very faded ink, is written ‘Ex libris 
Guliolmi Whyte.’ I wonder who William Whyte was? 
Some pragmatical seventeenth century lawyer, I sup- 
pose. His writing has a legal twist about it. Here comes 
our man, I think.” | 

As he spoke there was a sharp ring at the bell. Sher- 
lock rose softly and moved his chair in the direction 
of the door. We heard the servant pass along the hall, 
and the sharp click of the latch as she opened it. 

“Does Dr. Watson live here?” asked a clear, but rather 
harsh voice. We could not hear the servant’s reply, but 
the door closed and some one began to ascend the stairs. 
The footfall was an uncertain and shuffling one. A look 
of surprise passed over the face of my companion as 
he listened to it. It came slowly along the passage, and 
there was a feeble tap at the door. 

“Come in!” I cried. 

At my summons, instead of the man of violence whom 
we expected, a very old and wrinkled woman hobbled 
into the apartment. She appeared to be dazzled by the 
sudden blaze of light, and, after dropping a curtsey, she 
stood blinking at us with her bleared eyes and fumbling 
in her pocket with nervous, shaky fingers. I glanced at 
my companion, and his face had assumed such a discon- 
solate expression that it was all I could do to keep my 


A STUDY IN SCARLET 43 


countenance. The old crone drew out an evening paper, 
and pointed at our advertisement. 

“It’s this as has brought me, good gentlemen,” she 
said, dropping another curtsey; “a gold wedding ring 
in the Brixton Road. It belongs to my girl Sally, as was 
married only this time twelvemonth, which her husband 
is a steward aboard a Union boat, and what he’d say if 
he come ’ome and found her without her ring is more than 
I can think, he being short enough at the best o’ times, 
but more especially when he has the drink. If it please 
you, she went to the circus last night along with——” 

“Is that her ring?” I asked. 

“The Lord be thanked!” cried the old woman. “Sally 
will be a glad woman this night. That’s the ring.” 

“And what may your address be?” I inquired, taking 
up a pencil. 

‘ “13 Duncan Street, Houndsditch. A weary way from 
ere.” 

“The Brixton Road does not lie between any circus 
and Houndsditch,” said Sherlock Holmes, sharply. 

The old woman faced round and looked keenly at him 
from her little red-rimmed eyes. 

“The gentleman asked me for my address,” she said. 
“Sally lives in lodgings at 3 Mayfield Place, Peckham,” 

“And your name is ih 

“My name is Sawyer—hers is Dennis, which Tom 
Dennis married her—and a smart, clean lad, too, as long 
as he’s at sea, and no steward in the company more 
thought of; but when on shore, what with the women 
and what with liquor-shops——” 

“Here is your ring, Mrs. Sawyer,” I interrupted, in 
obedience to a sign from my companion; “it clearly be- 
longs to your daughter, and I am glad to be able to re- 
store it to the rightful owner.” 

With many mumbled blessings and protestations of 
gratitude the old crone packed it away in her pocket, 
and shuffled off down the stairs. Sherlock Holmes sprang 
to his feet the moment she was gone and rushed into 


44 A STUDY IN SCARLET 


his room. He returned in a few seconds enveloped in 
an ulster and a cravat. 

“T’ll follow her,’ he said, hurriedly; “she must be 
an accomplice, and will lead me to him. Wait up for 
we.” 

The hall door had hardly slammed behind our visitor 
before Holmes had descended the stair. Looking through 
the window, I could see her walking feebly along the 
other side, while her pursuer dogged her some little 
distance behind. 

“Either his whole theory is incorrect,’ I thought to 
myself, “or else he will be led now to the heart of the 
mystery.” 

There was no need for him to ask me to wait up for 
him, for I felt that sleep was impossible until I heard 
the result of his adventure. 

It was close upon nine when he set out. I had no 
idea how long he might be, but I sat stolidly puffing 
at my pipe and skipping over the pages of Henri Mur- 
ger’s “Vie de Boheme.” Ten o’clock passed, and I heard 
the footsteps of the maids as they pattered off to bed. 
Eleven, and the more stately tread of the landlady passed 
by my door, bound for the same destination. It was close 
upon twelve before I heard the sharp sound of his 
latch-key. The instant he entered I saw by his face that 
he had not been successful. Amusement and chagrin 
seemed to be struggling for the mastery, until the former 
suddenly carried the day, and he burst into a hearty laugh. 

“T wouldn’t have Scotland Yarders know it for the 
world,” he cried, dropping into his chair; “I have chaffed 
them so much that they would never have let me hear 
the end of it. I can afford to laugh, because I know that 
I will be even with them in the long run,’ 

“What is it, then?” I asked. 

POW don’t. mind telling a story against myself, 
That creature had gone a little way when she began to 
limp and show every sign of being footsore. Pres- © 
ently she came to a halt, and hailed a four-wheeler which 
was passing. I managed to be close to her so as to 


A STUDY IN SCARLET 45 


hear the address, but I need not have been so anxious, 
for she sung it out loud enough to be heard at the other 
side of the street, ‘Drive to 13 Duncan Street, Hounds- 
ditch,’ she cried. This begins to look genuine, I thought, 
and, having seen her safely inside, I perched myself 
behind. That’s an art which every detective should be 
an expert at. Well, away we rattled, and never drew rein 
until we reached the street in question. I hopped off 
before we came to the door, and strolled down the street 
in an easy, lounging way. I saw the cab pull up. The 
driver jumped down, and I saw him open the door 
and stand expectantly. Nothing came out, though. 
When I reached him he was groping about frantically in 
the empty cab, and giving vent to the finest assorted col- 
lection of oaths that I ever listened to. There was no sign 
or trace of his passenger, and I fear it will be some time 
before he gets his fare. On inquiring at No. 13 I found 
that the house belonged to a respectable paper-hanger 
named Keswick, and that no one of the name either of 
Sawyer or Dennis had ever been heard of there.” 

“You don’t mean to say,” I cried in amazement, “that 
that tottering, feeble old woman was able to get out of 
the cab while it was in motion, without either you or 
the driver seeing her?” 

“Old woman be d——d!” said Sherlock Holmes, 
sharply. “We were the old women, to be so taken in. 
It must have been a young man, and an active one, too, 
besides being an incomparable actor. The get-up was 
inimitable. He saw that he was followed, no doubt, and 
used this means of giving me the slip. It shows that 
the man we are after is not as lonely as I imagined he 
was, but has friends who are ready to risk something 
for him. Now, doctor, you are looking done up. Take 
my advice and turn in.” 

I was certainly feeling very weary, so I obeyed his 
injunction. I left Holmes seated in front of the smolder- 
ing fire, and long into the watches of the night I heard the 
low, melancholy wailings of his violin, and knew that he 


46 A STUDY IN SCARLET 


was still pondering over the strange problems which he 
had set himself to unravel. 


CHAPTER VI 
TOBIAS GREGSON SHOWS WHAT HE CAN DO 


THE papers next day were full of the “Brixton Mys- 
tery,” as they termed it. Each had a long account of the 
affair, and some had leaders upon it in addition. There 
was some information in them which was new to me. 
I still retain in my scrap-book numerous clippings and 
extracts bearing upon the case. Here is a condensation 
of a few of them: 

The “Daily Telegraph” remarked that in the history 
of crime there had seldom been a tragedy which pre- 
sented stranger features. ‘The German name of the 
victim, the absence of all other motive, and the sinister 
inscription on the wall, all pointed to its perpetration by 
political refugees and revolutionists. The Socialists had 
many branches in America, and the deceased had, no 
doubt, infringed their unwritten laws and been tracked 
down by them. After alluding airily to the Vehmgericht, 
aqua tofana, Carbonari, the Marchioness de Brinvilliers, 
the Darwinian theory, the principles of Malthus, and the 
Ratcliff Highway murders, the article concluded by ad- 
monishing the government and advocating a closer watch 
over foreigners in England. 

The “Standard” commented upon the fact that lawless 
outrages of the sort usually occurred under a Liberal ad- 
ministration, They arose from the unsettling of the — 
minds of the masses, and the consequent weakening 
of all authority. The deceased was an American gen- 
tleman who had been residing for some weeks in the 
metropolis. He had stayed at the boarding-house of 
Mme. Charpentier, in Torquay Terrace, Camberwell. 
He was accompanied in his travels by his private secre- 
tary, Mr. Joseph Stangerson. The two bid adieu to their 
landlady upon Tuesday, the 4th inst., and departed to 


A STUDY IN SCARLET 47 


- Euston Station with the avowed intention of catching the 
Liverpool express. They were afterward seen together 
on the platform. Nothing more is known of them until 
Mr. Drebber’s body was, as recorded, discovered in an 
empty house in the Brixton Road, many miles from 
Euston. How he came there, or how he met his fate, 
are questions which are still involved in the mystery. 
Nothing is known of the whereabouts of Stangerson. 
We are glad to learn that Mr. Lestrade and Mr. Gregson, 
of Scotland Yard, are both engaged upon the case, and 
it is confidently anticipated that these well-known officers 
will speedily throw light upon the matter. 

The “Daily News” observed that there was no doubt 
as to the crime being a political one. The despotism and 
hatred of Liberalism which animated the Continental 
governments had had the effect of driving to our shores 
a number of men who might have made excellent citizens 
were they not soured by the recollection of all that they 
had undergone. Among these men there was a stringent 
code of honor, any infringement of which was punished 
by death. Every effort should be made to find the secre- 
tary, Stangerson, and to ascertain some particulars of the 
habits of the deceased. A great step had been gained by 
the discovery of the address of the house at which he had 
boarded—a result which was entirely due to the acuteness 
and energy of Mr. Gregson, of Scotland Yard. 

Sherlock Holmes and I read these notices over together 
at breakfast, and they appeared to afford him considerable 
amusement. 

“IT told you that, whatever happened, Lestrade and 
Gregson would be sure to score.” 

“That depends on how it turns out.” 

“Oh, bless you, it doesn’t matter in the least. If the 
man is caught, it will be on account of their exertions; if 
he escapes, it will be im spite of their exertions. It’s 
heads I win and tails you lose. Whatever they do, they 
will have followers. ‘Un sot trouve toujours un plus sot 
qui admire,” 

“What on earth is this?” I cried, for at this moment 


48 A STUDY IN SCARLET 


there came the pattering of many steps in the hall and on 
the stairs, accompanied by audible expressions of disgust 
upon the part of our landlady. 

“It’s the Baker Street division of the detective police 
force,” said my companion, gravely; and as he spoke 
there rushed into the room half a dozen of the dirtiest 
and most ragged street arabs that ever I clapped eyes 
on. 
“*Tention!” cried Holmes, in a sharp tone, and the 
six dirty little scoundrels stood in a line like so many 
disreputable statuettes. “In the future you shall send up 
Wiggins alone to report, and the rest of you must wait in 
the street. Have you found it, Wiggins?” 

“No, sir, we hain’t,” said one of the youths. 

“I hardly expected you would. You must keep on 
until you do. Here are your wages.” He handed each 
of them a shilling. “Now, off you go, and come back 
with a better report next time.” 

He waved his hand, and they scampered away down 
stairs like so many rats, and we heard their shrill voices 
next moment in the street. 

“There’s more work to be got out of one of those little 
beggars than out of a dozen of the force,’ Holmes re- 
marked. “The mere sight of an official-looking person 
seals men’s lips. These youngsters, however, go every- 
where and hear everything. They are as sharp as needles, 
too; all they want is organization.” 

“Ts it on this Brixton case that you are employing 
them?” I asked. 

“Yes; there is a point which I wish to ascertain. It 
is merely a matter of time. MHalloo! we are going to 
hear some news now with a vengeance! Here is Gregson 
coming down the road, with beatitude written upon every 
feature of his face. Bound for us, I know. Yes, he 
is stopping. There he is!’ 

There was a violent peal at the bell, and in a few 
seconds the fair-haired detective came up the stairs, 
three steps at a time, and burst into our sitting-room. 

“My dear fellow,” he cried, wringing Holmes’ unre- 


A STUDY IN SCARLET 49 


sponsive hand, “congratulate me! I have made the 
whole thing as clear as day!” 

A shade of anxiety seemed to me to cross my com- 
panion’s expressive face. 

“Do you mean that you are on the right track?” he 
asked. 

“The right track! Why, sir, we have the man under 
lock and key!” 

“And his name is?” 

“Arthur Charpentier, sub-lieutenant in Her Majesty’s 
navy,” cried Gregson, pompously rubbing his fat hands 
and inflating his chest. 

Sherlock Holmes gave a sigh of relief and relaxed into 
a smile. 

“Take a seat and try one of these cigars,” he said. 
“We are anxious to know how you managed it. Will 
you have some whiskey and water?” 

“TI don’t mind if I do,” the detective answered. “The 
tremendous exertions which I have gone through during 
the last day or two have worn me out. Not so much 
bodily exertion, you understand, as the strain upon the 
mind. You will appreciate that, Mr. Sherlock Holmes, 
for we are both brain-workers.” 

“You do me too much honor,” said Holmes, gravely. 
“Let us hear how you arrived at this most gratifying 
result.” 

The detective seated himself in the armchair and puffed 
complacently at his cigar. Then suddenly he slapped his 
thigh in a paroxysm of amusement. 

“The fun of it is,” he cried, “that that fool Lestrade, 
who thinks himself so smart, has gone off upon the 
wrong track altogether. He is after the secretary, 
Stangerson, who had no more to do with the crime than 
the babe unborn. I have no doubt that he has caught 
him by this time.” 

The idea tickled Gregson so much that he laughed until 
he choked. 

“And how did you get your clue?” 

“Ah, T’ll tell you all about it. Of course, Dr. Watson, 


50 A STUDY IN SCARLET 


this is strictly between ourselves. ‘The first difficulty 
which we had to contend with was the finding of this 
American’s antecedents. Some people would have waited 
until their advertisements were answered, or until parties 
came forward and volunteered information. That is not 
Tobias Gregson’s way of going to work. You remember 
the hat beside the dead man?’ 

“Yes,” said Holmes; “by John Underwood & Sons, 
229 Camberwell Road.” 

Gregson looked quite crestfallen. 

“T had no idea that you noticed that,” he said. “Have 
you been there?” 

“No,” 

“Ha!” cried Gregson, in a relieved voice; “you should 
never neglect a chance, however small it may seem.” 

“To a great mind nothing is little,’ remarked Holmes, 
sententiously. 

“Well, I went to Underwood, and asked him if he had 
sold a hat of that size and description. He looked over his 
books, and came on it at once. He had sent the hat to a 
Mr. Drebber, residing at Charpentier’s boarding establish- 
ment, Torquay Terrace. Thus I got at his address.” 

“Smart—very smart!” murmured Sherlock Holmes. 

“I next called upon Madame Charpentier,” continued 
the detective. “I found her very pale and distressed. 
Her daughter was in the room, too—an uncommonly fine 
girl she is, too; she was looking red about the eyes, and 
her lips trembled as I spoke to her. That didn’t escape 
my notice. I began to smella rat. You know the feeling, 
Mr. Sherlock Holmes, when you come upon the right 
scent—a kind of thrill in your nerves. “Have you heard 
of the mysterious death of your late boarder, Mr. Enoch J. 
Drebber, of Cleveland?’ I asked. 

“The mother nodded. She didn’t seem able to get out 
a word. The daughter burst into tears. I felt more than 
ever that these people knew something of the matter. 

“At what o’clock did Mr. Drebber leave your house 
for the train?’ I asked. 

“At eight o’clock,’ she said, gulping in her throat to 
keep down her agitation. ‘His secretary, Mr. Stanger- 


? 


A STUDY IN SCARLET 51 


son, said that there were two trains—one at 9:15 and one 
at 11. He was to catch the first.’ 

“And was that the last you saw of him?’ 

“A terrible change came over the woman’s face as I 
asked the question. Her features turned perfectly livid. 
It was some seconds before she could get out the single 
word, ‘Yes,’ and when it did come it was in a husky, 
unnatural tone. 

“There was silence for a moment, and then the 
daughter spoke in a calm, clear voice. 

“*No good can ever come of falsehood, mother,’ she 
said. ‘Let us be frank with this gentleman. We did see 
Mr. Drebber again.’ 

“*God forgive you!’ cried Madame Charpentier, throw- 
ing up her hands and sinking back in her chair. ‘You 
have murdered your brother!’ 

“Arthur would rather that we spoke the truth,’ the 
girl answered, firmly. : 

““*VYou had best tell me all about it now,’ I said. ‘Half 
confidences are worse than none. Besides, you do not 
know how much we know of it.’ 

“On your head be it, Alice!’ cried her mother; and 
then, turning to me: ‘I will tell you all, sir. Do not 
imagine that my agitation on behalf of my son arises 
from any fear lest he should have had a hand in this 
terrible affair. He is utterly innocent of it. My dread 
is, however, that in your eyes and in the eyes of others 
he may appear to be compromised. That, however, is 
surely impossible. His high character, his profession, his 
antecedents would all forbid it.’ 

“*Vour best way is to make a clean breast of the 
facts,’ I answered. ‘Depend upon it, if your son is in- 
nocent he will be none the worse.’ 

“ ‘Perhaps, Alice, you had better leave us together,’ 
she said, and her daughter withdrew. ‘Now, sir,’ she 
continued, ‘I had no intention of telling you all this, but 
since my poor daughter has disclosed it I have no alterna- 
tive. Having once decided to speak, I will tell you all, 
without omitting any particular.’ 


52 A STUDY IN SCARLET 


“Tt is your wisest course,’ said I. 

“Mr. Drebber has been with us nearly three weeks. 
He and his secretary, Mr. Stangerson, had been travel- 
ing on the Continent. I noticed a Copenhagen label upon 
each of their trunks, showing that that had been their 
last stopping-place. Stangerson was a quiet, reserved 
man, but his employer, I am sorry to say, was far other- 
wise. He was coarse in his habits and brutish in his 
ways. The very night of his arrival he became very 
much the worse for drink, and, indeed, after twelve 
o'clock in the day he could hardly ever be said to be sober. 
His manners toward the maid-servants was disgustingly 
free and familiar. Worst of all, he speedily assumed 
the same attitude toward my daughter, Alice, and spoke 
to her more than once in a way which, fortunately, she 
is too innocent to understand. On one occasion he 
actually seized her in his arms and embraced her—an 
outrage which caused his own secretary to reproach him 
for his unmanly conduct.” 

“But why did you stand all this? I asked. ‘I sup- 
or that you can get rid of your boarders when you 
wish.’ : 

“Mrs. Charpentier blushed at my pertinent question. 

“*Would to God that I had given him notice on the 
very day he came,’ she said. ‘But it was a sore temp- 
tation. They were paying a pound a day each—fourteen 
pounds a week, and this is a slack season. I am a widow, 
and my boy in the navy has cost me much, I grudged to 
lose the money. I acted for the best. This last was too 
much, however, and I gave him notice to leave on account 
of it. That was the reason of his going,’ 

NV ell’ 

“*My heart grew light when I saw him drive away. 
My son is on leave just now, but I did not tell him any- 
thing of this, for his temper is violent, and he is passion- 
ately fond of his sister. When I closed the door be- 
hind them a load seemed to be lifted from my mind. 
Alas! in less than an hour there was a ring at the bell, 
and I learned that Mr. Drebber had returned. He 


A STUDY IN SCARLET 53 


was much excited, and evidently the worse for drink. 
He forced his way into the room where I was sitting 
with my daughter, and made some incoherent remark 
about having missed his train. He then turned to Alice, 
and, before my very face, proposed to her that she should 
fly with him. “You are of age,” he said, “and there is no 
law to stop you. I have money enough and to spare. 
Never mind the old girl here, but come along with me 
now straight away. You shall live like a princess.” Poor 
Alice was so frightened that she shrunk away from him, 
but he caught her by the wrist and endeavored to draw 
her toward the door. I screamed, and at that moment 
my son Arthur came into the room. What happened then 
I do not know. I heard oaths and the confused sounds 
of a scuffle. I was too terrified to raise my head. When 
I did look up I saw Arthur standing in the doorway 
laughing, with a stick in his hand. “I don’t think that 
fine fellow will trouble us again,’ he said. “I will just 
go after him and see what he does with himself.” With 
those words he took his hat and started off down the 
street. The next morning we heard of Mr. Drebber’s 
mysterious death.’ 

“This statement came from Mrs. Charpentier’s lips 
with many gasps and pauses. At times she spoke so low 
that I could hardly catch the words. I made shorthand 
notes of all she said, however, so that there should be 
no possibility of a mistake.” 

“It’s quite exciting,” said Sherlock Holmes, with a 
yawn. “What happened next?” } 

“When Mrs. Charpentier paused,” the detective con- 
tinued, “I saw that the whole case hung upon one point. 
Fixing her with my eye in a way which I always found 
effective with women, I asked her at what hour her 
son returned. 

“*T do not know,’ she answered. 

““Not know ?’ 

“*No; he has a latch-key, and let himself in.’ 

“‘And after you went to bed?’ 

éé Ves,’ 


54 A STUDY IN SCARLET 


“ “When did you go to bed?’ 

“About eleven.’ 

“«So your son was gone at least two hours?’ 

«&é ‘Yes,’ 

‘Possibly four or five?’ 

€é ‘Ves? 

“What was he doing during that time?’ 

“*T do not know,’ she answered, turning white to her 
very lips. 

“Of course, after that there was nothing more to be 
done. I found out where Lieutenant Charpentier was, 
took two officers with me, and arrested him. When I 
touched him on the shoulder and warned him to come 
quietly with us, he answered us, as bold as brass: ‘T 
suppose you are arresting me for being concerned in the 
death of that scoundrel Drebber,’ he said. We had said 
nothing to him about it, so that his alluding to it had 
a most suspicious aspect.” 

“Very,” said Holmes. 

“He still carried the heavy stick which the mother 
described him as having with him when he followed 
Drebber. It was a stout oak cudgel.” 

“What is your theory, then?” 

“Well, my theory is that he followed Drebber as far 
as the Brixton Road. When there, a fresh altercation 
arose between them, in the course of which Drebber 
received a blow from the stick, in the pit of the stomach, 
perhaps, which killed him without leaving any mark. 
The night was so wet that no one was about, so Char- 
pentier dragged the body of his victim into the empty 
house. As to the candle, and the blood, and the writing 
on the wall, and the ring, they may all-be so many tricks 
to throw the police on the wrong scent.” 

“Well done!” said Holmes, in an encouraging voice. 
“Really, Gregson, you are getting along. We shall make 
something of you yet.” 

“T flatter myself that I have managed it rather neatly,” 
the detective answered, proudly. “The young man volun- 
teered a statement, in which he said that after following 


A STUDY IN SCARLET 55 


Drebber for some time, the latter perceived him, and 
took a cab in order to get away from him. On his way 
he met an old shipmate, and took a long walk with him. 
On being asked where his old shipmate lived, he was 
unable to give any satisfactory reply. I think the whole 
case fits together uncommonly well. What amuses me is 
to think of Lestrade, who had started off upon the wrong 
scent. I am afraid he won’t make much of it. Why, by 
Jove, here’s the very man himself!” 

It was indeed Lestrade, who had ascended the stairs 
while we were talking, and who now entered the room. 
The assurance and jauntiness which generally marked his 
demeanor and dress were, however, wanting. His face 
was disturbed and troubled, while his clothes were dis- 
arranged and untidy. He had evidently come with the 
intention of consulting with Sherlock Holmes, for on 
perceiving his colleague he appeared to be embarrassed 
and put out. He stood in the center of the room, fum- 
bling nervously with his hat, and uncertain what to do. 

“This is a most extraordinary case,” he said, at last; 
“a most incomprehensible affair.” 

“Ah, you find it so, Mr. Lestrade!” cried Gregson, 
triumphantly. “I thought you would come to that con- 
clusion. Have you managed to find the secretary, Mr. 
Joseph Stangerson ?”’ 

“The secretary, Mr. Joseph Stangerson,”’ said Les- 
trade, gravely, “was murdered at Halliday’s Private Hotel 
about six o’clock this morning.” 


CHAPTER VII 
LIGHT IN THE DARKNESS 


THE intelligence with which Lestrade greeted us was 
so momentous and so unexpected that we were all three 
fairly dumfounded. Gregson sprang out of his chair 
and upset the remainder of his whiskey and water. I 
started in silence at Sherlock Holmes, whose lips were 
compressed and his brows drawn down over his eyes. 


56 A STUDY IN SCARLET 


“Stangerson, too!” he muttered. “The plot thickens!’ 

“It was quite thick enough before,” grumbled Les- — 
trade, taking a chair. “I seem to have dropped into a 
sort of council of war.” 

“Are you—are you sure of this piece of intelligence?” 
stammered Gregson. 

“T have just come from his room,” said Lestrade. “I 
was the first to discover what had occurred.” | 

“We have been hearing Gregson’s view of the matter,” 
Holmes observed. ‘‘Would you mind letting us know 
what you have seen and done?” 

“T have no objection,” Lestrade answered, seating him- — 
self. “I freely confess that I was of the opinion that 
Stangerson was concerned in the death of Drebber. 
This fresh development has shown me that I was com- 
pletely mistaken. Full of the one idea, I set myself to 
find out what had become of the secretary. They had 
been seen together at Euston Station about half-past eight 
on the evening of the third. At two in he morning 
Drebber had been found in the Brixton Road. The ques- 
tion which confronted me was to find out how Stanger- 
son had been employed between 8:30 and the time of the 
crime, and what had become of him afterward. I tele- 
graphed to Liverpool, giving a description of the man, 
and warning them to keep a watch upon the American 
boats. I then set to work calling upon all the hotels and 
lodging-houses in the vicinity of Euston. You see, I 
argued that if Drebber and his companion had become 
separated, the natural course for the latter would be to 
put up somewhere in the vicinity for the night, and then 
to hang about the station again the next morning.” 

“They would be likely to agree on some meeting-place 
beforehand,” remarked Holmes. 

“So it proved. I spent the whole of yesterday eve- 
ning in making inquiries, entirely without avail. This 
morning I began very early, and at eight o’clock I reached 
Halliday’s Private Hotel, in Little George Street. On my 
inquiry as to whether a Mr. Stangerson was living there, 
they at once answered me in the affirmative. 


A STUDY IN SCARLET 57 


““No doubt you are the gentleman he was expecting,’ 
they said. ‘He has been waiting for a gentleman for two 
days.’ 

“Where is he now?’ I asked. 

““He is up stairs in bed. He wished to be called at 
nine.’ 

“It seemed to me that my sudden appearance might 
shake his nerves and lead him to say something un- 
guarded. The Boots volunteered to show me the room; 
it was on the second floor, and there was a small corridor 
leading up to it. The Boots pointed out the door to 
me, and was about to go down stairs again, when I saw 
something that made me feel sickish, in spite of my 
twenty years’ experience. From under the door there 
curled a little red ribbon of blood, which had meandered 
across the passage and formed a little pool along the 
skirting at the other side. I gave a cry, which brought 
the Boots back. He nearly fainted when he saw it. The 
door was locked on the inside, but we put our shoulders 
to it and knocked it in. The window of the room was 
open, and beside the window, all huddled up, lay the 
body of a man in his night-dress. He was quite dead, and 
had been for some time, for his limbs were rigid and 
cold. When we turned him over the Boots recognized 
him at once as being the same gentleman who had en- 
gaged the room under the name of Joseph Stangerson. 
_ The cause of death was a deep stab in the left side, which 

must have penetrated the heart. And now comes the 
strangest part of the affair. What do you suppose was 
above the murdered man?” 

I felt a creeping of flesh, and a presentiment of coming 
horror, even before Sherlock Holmes answered: 

“The word ‘Rache,’ written in letters of blood,’ he 
said. 

“That was it,’ said Lestrade, in an awe-struck voice; 
and we were all silent for a while. 

There was something so methodical and so incompre- 
hensible about the deeds of this unknown assassin, that 
it imparted a fresh ghastliness to his crimes. My nerves, 


58 A STUDY IN SCRALET 


which were steady enough on the field of battle, tingled 
as I thought of it. 

“The man was seen,” continued Lestrade. “A milk- 
boy, passing on his way to the dairy, happened to walk 
down the lane which leads from the mews at the back 
of the hotel. He noticed that a ladder, which usually 
lay there, was raised against one of the windows ofthe 
second floor, which was wide open. After passing, he 
looked back and saw a man descend the ladder. He 
came down so quietly and openly that the boy imagined 
him to be some carpenter or joiner at work in the hotel. 
He took no particular notice of him, beyond thinking in 
his own mind that it was early for him to be at work. 
He has an impression that the man was tall, had a reddish 
face, and was dressed in a long, brownish coat. He must 
have stayed in the room some little time after the mur- 
der, for we found bloodstained water in the basin, where 
he had washed his hands, and marks on the sheets where 
he had deliberately wiped his knife.” 

I glanced at Holmes on hearing the description of the 
murderer, which tallied so exactly with his own. There 
was, however, no trace of exultation or satisfaction upon 
his face. 

“Did you find nothing in the room which could fur- 
nish a clue to the murderer?” he asked. 

“Nothing. Stangerson had Drebber’s purse in his 
pocket, but it seems that this was usual, as he did all 
the paying. There was eighty-odd pounds in it, but noth- 
ing had been taken. Whatever the motives of these 
extraordinary crimes, robbery is certainly not one of | 
them. There were no papers or memoranda in the 
murdered man’s pockets, except a single telegram, dated 
from Cleveland about a month ago, and containing the 
words, ‘J. H. is in Europe.’ There was no name ap- 
pended to this message.” 

“And was there nothing else?’ Holmes asked. 

“Nothing of any importance. The man’s novel, with 
which he had read himself to sleep, was lying upon the 
bed, and his pipe was on a chair beside him. There was 


A STUDY IN SCARLET 59 


a glass of water on the table, and on the window-sill 
a small chip ointment box containing a couple of pills.’ 

Sherlock Holmes sprang from his chair with an excla- 
mation of delight. 

“The last link!” he cried, exultantly. ‘My case is com- 
plete.” 

The two detectives stared at him in amazement. 

“JT have now in my hands,” my companion said, con- 
fidently, “all the threads which have formed such a tangle. 
There are, of course, details to be filled in, but I am 
as certain of all the main facts, from the time that Dreb- 
ber parted from Stangerson at the station up to the dis- 
covery of the body of the latter, as if I had seen them 
with my own eyes. I will give you a proof of my knowl- 
edge. Could you lay your hand upon those pills?” 

“I have them,” said Lestrade, producing a small white 
box; “I took them and the purse and the telegram, in- 
tending to have them put in a place of safety at the police 
station. It was the merest chance my taking these pills, 
for I am bound to say that I do not attach any impor- 
tance to them.” 

“Give them here,” said Holmes. “Now, doctor,” turn- 
ing to me, “are those ordinary pills?” 

They certainly were not. They were of a pearly gray 
color, small, round, and almost transparent against the 
light. 

“From their lightness and transparency I should imag- 
ine that they are soluble in water,” I remarked. 

“Precisely so,” answered Holmes. “Now, would you 
mind going down and fetching that poor little devil of a 
terrier which has been bad so long, and which the land- 
lady wanted you to put out of its pain yesterday?” 

I went down stairs and carried the dog up stairs in my 
arms. Its labored breathing and glazing eye showed that 
it was not far from its end. Indeed, its snow-white 
muzzle proclaimed that it had already exceeded the usual 
term of canine existence. I placed it upon a cushion 
on the rug. 

“T will now cut one of these pills in two,” said Holmes; 
and, drawing his penknife, he suited the action to the 


60 A STUDY IN SCARLET 


word. “One half we return into the box for future pur- 
poses. The other half I will place in this wine-glass, in — 
which is a teaspoonful of water. You perceive that our 
friend, the doctor, is right, and that it readily dissolves.” 

“This may be very interesting,” said Lestrade, in the 
injured tone of one who suspects that he is being laughed 
at. “I cannot see, however, what it has to do with the 
death of Mr. Joseph Stangerson.” 

“Patience, my friend, patience! You will find in time 
that it has everything to do with it. I shall now add a 
little milk to make the mixture palatable, and on present- 
ing it to the dog we find that he laps it up readily enough.” 

As he spoke he turned the contents of the wine-glass 
into a saucer and placed it in front of the terrier, who 
speedily licked it dry. Sherlock Holmes’ earnest demeanor 
had so far convinced us that we all sat in silence, watch- 
ing the animal intently, and expecting some startling 
effect. None appeared, however. The dog continued to 
lie upon the cushion, breathing in a labored way, but ap- 
parently neither the better nor worse for its draught. 

Holmes had taken out his watch, and as minute followed 
minute without result, an expression of the utmost cha- 
grin and disappointment appeared upon his features. He 
gnawed his lip, drummed his fingers upon the table, and 
showed every other symptom of acute impatience. So 
great was his emotion that I felt sincerely sorry for him, 
while the two detectives smiled derisively, by no means 
displeased at this check which he had met. 

“It can’t be a coincidence,” he cried at last, springing 
from his chair and pacing wildly up and down the room; 
“it is impossible that it should be a mere coincidence. 
The very pills which I suspected in the case of Drebber 
are actually found after the death of Stangerson. And 
yet they are inert. What can it mean? Surely my 
whole chain of reasoning cannot have been false! It is 
impossible! And yet this wretched dog is none the worse. 
Ah, I have it! I have it!” With a perfect shriek of de- 
light he rushed to the box, cut the other pill in two, dis- 
solved it, added milk, and presented it to the terrier. 
The unfortunate creature’s tongue seemed hardly to have 


A STUDY IN SCARLET 61 


been moistened in it before it gave a convulsive shiver in 
every limb, and lay as rigid and lifeless as if it had 
been struck by lightning. 

Sherlock Holmes drew a long breath, and wiped the 
perspiration from his forehead. 

“T should have more faith,” he said; “I ought to know 
by this time that when a fact appears to be opposed to a 
long train of deductions it invariably proves to be capable 
of bearing some other interpretation. Of the two pills in 
that box one was the most deadly poison and the other 
was entirely harmless. J ought to have known that 
before I ever saw the box at all.” 

This last statement appeared to me to be so startling 
that I could hardly believe that he was in his sober 
senses. There was the dead dog, however, to prove that 
his conjecture had been correct. It seemed to me that 
the mists in my own mind were gradually clearing away, 
and I began to have a dim, vague perception of the 
truth. 

“All this seems strange to you,’ continued Holmes, 
“because you failed at the beginning of the inquiry to 
grasp the importance of the single real clue which was 
presented to you. I had the good fortune to seize upon 
that, and everything which has occurred since then has 
served to confirm my original supposition, and, indeed, 
was the logical sequence of it. Hence, things which have 
perplexed you and made the case more obscure have 
served to enlighten me and to strengthen my conclusions. 
It is a mistake to confound strangeness with mystery. 
The most common-place crime is often the most mysteri- 
ous, because it presents no new or special features from 
which deductions may be drawn. This murder would 
have been infinitely more difficult to unravel had the body 
of the victim been simply found lying in the roadway 
without any of those outre and sensational accompani- 
ments which have rendered it remarkable. These strange 
details, far from making the case more difficult, have 
really had the effect of making it less so.” 

Mr. Gregson, who had listened to this address with 
considerable impatience, could contain himself no longer, 


62 A STUDY IN SCARLET 


“Look here, Mr. Sherlock Holmes,” he said, “we are 
all ready to acknowledge that you are a smart man, and 
that you have your own methods of working. We want 
something more than mere theory and preaching now, 
though. It is a case of taking the man. I have made 
my case out, and it seems I was wrong. Young Char- 
pentier could not have been engaged in this second affair. 
Lestrade went after this man, Stangerson, and it appears 
that he was wrong, too. You have thrown out hints 
here and there, and seem to know more than we do, but 
the time has come when we feel that we have a right to 
ask you straight how much you do know of the business. 
Can you name the man who did it?” 

“IT cannot help feeling that Gregson is right, sir,” re- 
marked Lestrade. “We have both tried, and we have 
both failed. You have remarked more than once since 
I have been in the room that you have all the evidence 
which you require. Surely you will not withhold it any 
longer.” 

“Any delay in arresting the assassin,” I observed, 
“might give him time to perpetrate some fresh atrocity.” 

Thus pressed by us all Holmes showed signs of irresolu- 
tion. He continued to walk up and down the room with 
his head sunk on his chest and his brows drawn down, 
as was his habit when lost in thought. 

“There will be no more murders,’ he said, at last, 
stopping abruptly and facing us. ‘You can put that con- 
sideration out of the question. You have asked me if I 
know the name of the assassin. Ido. The mere knowing 
of his name is a small thing, however, compared with 
the power of laying our hands upon him. This I expect 
very shortly to do. I have good hopes of managing it 
through my own arrangements; but it is a thing which 
needs delicate handling, for we have a shrewd and des- 

erate man to deal with, who is supported, as I have had 
occasion to prove, by another who is as clever as him- 
self. As long as this man has no idea that any one can 
have a clue, there is some chance of securing him; but 
if he had the slightest suspicion he would change his 
name, and vanish in an instant among the four million 


, 


A STUDY IN SCARLET 63 


inhabitants of this great city. Without meaning to hurt 
either of your feelings, I am bound to say that I con- 
sider these men to be more than a match for the official 
force, and that is why I have not asked your assistance. 
If I fail I shall of course incur all the blame due to 
this omission; but that I am prepared for. At present I 
am ready to promise that the instant that I can communi- 
cate with you without endangering my own combinations 
I shall do so.” 

Gregson and Lestrade seemed to be far from satisfied 
by this assurance, or by the depreciating allusion to the 
detective police. The former had flushed up to the roots 
of his flaxen hair, while the other’s beady eyes glistened 
with curiosity and resentment. Neither of them had time 
to speak, however, before there was a tap at the door and 
the spokesman of the street arabs, young Wiggins, intro- 
duced his insignificant and unsavory person. 

“Please, sir,’ he said, touching his forehead, “I have 
the cab down stairs.” 

“Good boy,” said Holmes, blandly. “Why don’t you 
introduce this pattern at Scotland Yard?’ he continued, 
taking a pair of steel handcuffs from a drawer. ‘See 
how beautifully the spring works. They fasten in an 
instant.” 

“The old pattern is good enough,’ remarked Lestrade, 
“if we can find the man to put them on.” 

“Very good, very good,” said Holmes, smiling. “The 
cabman may as well help me with my boxes, Just ask 
him to step up, Wiggins.” 

I was surprised to find my companion speaking as 
though he were about to set out on a journey, since he 
had not said anything to me about it. There was a small 
portmanteau in the room, and this he pulled out and began 
to strap. He was busily engaged at it when the cabman 
entered the room. 

“Tust give me a help with this buckle, cabman,” he said, 
kneeling over his task, and never turning his head. 

The fellow came forward with a somewhat sullen, 
defiant air, and put down his hands to assist. At that 


64 A STUDY IN SCARLET 


instant there was a sharp click, the jangling of metal, and 
Sherlock Holmes sprang to his feet again. 

“Gentlemen,” he cried, with flashing eyes, “let me in- 
troduce you to Mr. Jefferson Hope, the murderer of 
Enoch Drebber and of Joseph Stangerson.” 

The whole thing occurred in a moment—so quickly that 
I had no time to realize it. I have a vivid recollection 
of that instant, of Holmes’ triumphant expression and 
the ring of his voice, of the cabman’s dazed, savage 
face, as he glared at the glittering handcuffs, which 
had appeared as if by magic upon his wrists. For a sec- 
ond or two we might have been a group of statues. Then, 
with an inarticulate roar of fury, the prisoner wrenched 
himself free from Holmes’ grasp, and hurled himself 
through the window. Woodwork and glass gave way be- 
fore him, but before he got quite through Gregson, Les- 
trade and Holmes sprang upon him like so many stag- 
hounds. He was dragged back into the room, and then 
commenced a terrific conflict. So powerful and so fierce 
was he that the four of us were shaken off again and 
again. He appeared to have the convulsive strength of 
aman inan epileptic fit. His face and hands were terribly 
mangled by the passage through the glass, but loss of 
blood had no effect in diminishing his resistance. It was 
not until Lestrade succeeded in getting his hand inside 
his neckcloth and half strangling him that we made him 
realize that his struggles were of no avail; and even then 
we felt no security until we had pinioned his feet as well 
as his hands. That done we rose to our feet, breathless 
and panting. | 

“We have his cab,” said Sherlock Holmes. “It will 
serve to take him to Scotland Yard. And now, gentle- 
men,’ he continued, with a pleasant smile, “we have 
reached the end of our little mystery. You are very wel- 
come to put any questions that you like to me now, ard 
there is no danger that I will refuse to answer them.” 


A STUDY IN SCARLET 65 


PAR CU 


THE COUNTRY OF THE SAINTS 
CHAPTER: TL 
ON THE GREAT ALKALI PLAIN 


In the central portion of the great North American 
Continent there lies an arid and repulsive desert, which 
for many a long year served as a barrier against the 
advance of civilization. From the Sierra Nevada to 
Nebraska, and from the Yellowstone River in the north 
to the Colorado upon the south, is a region of desolation 
and silence. Nor is Nature always in one mood through- 
out this grim district. It comprises snow-capped and 
lofty mountains, and dark and gloomy valleys. There 
are swift-flowing rivers which dash through jagged can- 
yons; and there are enormous plains, which in winter are 
white with snow, and in summer are gray with the saline 
alkali dust. They all preserve, however, the common 
characteristics of barrenness, inhospitality, and misery. 

There are no inhabitants of this land of despair. A 
band of Pawnees or of Blackfeet may occasionally tra- 
verse it in order to reach other hunting-grounds, but the 
hardiest of the braves are glad to lose sight of those awe- 
some plains, and to find themselves once more upon their 
prairies. The coyote skulks among the scrub, the buz- 
zard flaps heavily through the air, and the clumsy grizzly 
bear lumbers through the dark ravines, and picks up such 
sustenance as it can among the rocks. These are the 
sole dwellers in the wilderness. 

In the whole world there can be no more dreary view 
than that from the northern slope of the Sierra Blanco. 
As far as the eye can reach stretches the great flat plain- 


66 A STUDY IN SCARLET 


et 


land, all dusted over with patches of alkali, and inter- 
sected by clumps of the dwarfish chaparal bushes. On 
the extreme verge of the horizon lie a long chain of 
mountain-peaks, with their rugged summits flecked with 
snow. In this great stretch of country there is no sign 
of life, nor of anything appertaining to life. There is 
no bird in the steel-blue heaven, no movement upon the 
dull, gray earth—above all, there is absolute silence. Lis- 
ten as one may, there is no shadow of a sound in all that 
mighty wilderness; nothing but silence—complete and 
heart-subduing silence. 

It has been said there is nothing appertaining to life 
upon the broad plain. That is hardly true. Looking down 
from the Sierra Blanco, one sees a pathway traced out 
across the desert, which winds away and is lost in the 
extreme distance. It is rutted with wheels and trodden 
down by the feet of many adventurers. Here and there 
are scattered white objects which glisten in the sun, and 
stand out against the dull deposit of alkali. Approach, 
and examine them! ‘They are bones; some large and 
coarse, others smaller and more delicate. The former 
have belonged to oxen, and the latter to men. For fifteen 
hundred miles one may trace this ghastly caravan route by 
these scattered remains of those who had fallen by the 
wayside. 

Looking down on this very scene there stood upon the 
4th of May, 1847, a solitary traveler. His appearance 
was such that he might have been the very genius or 
demon of the region. An observer would have found it 
difficult to say whether he was nearer to forty or to 
sixty. His face was lean and haggard, and the brown, 
parchment-like skin was drawn tightly over the project- 
ing bones; his long, brown hair and beard were all flecked 
and dashed with white; his eyes were sunken in his head 
and burned with an unnatural luster, while the hand 
which grasped his rifle was hardly more fleshy than that 
of a skeleton. As he stood, he leaned upon his weapon 
for support, and yet his tall figure and the massive 
framework of his bones suggested a wiry and vigorous 
constitution. His gaunt face, however, and his clothes, 


A STUDY IN SCARLET 67 


which hung so baggily over his shriveled limbs, pro- 
claimed what it was that gave him that senile and decrepit 
appearance. The man was dying—dying from hunger 
and thirst. 

He had toiled painfully down the ravine, and on to this 
little elevation, in the vain hope of seeing some signs of 
water. Now the great salt plain stretched before his 
eyes, and the distant belt of savage mountains, without a 
sign anywhere of plant or tree, which might indicate 
the presence of moisture. In all that broad landscape 
there was no gleam of hope. North, and east, and west 
he looked with wild, questioning eyes, and then he realized 
that his wanderings had come to an end, and that there, 
on that barren crag, he was about to die. 

“Why not here, as well as in a feather bed, twenty 
years hence,” he muttered, as he seated himself in the 
shelter of a bowlder. 

Before sitting down he had deposited upon the ground 
his useless rifle, and also a large bundle tied up in a gray 
shawl, which he had carried slung over his right shoulder. 
It appeared to be somewhat too heavy for his strength, 
for, in lowering it, it came down on the ground with 
some little violence. Instantly there broke from the gray 
parcel a little moaning cry, and from it there protruded 
a small, scared face, with very bright brown eyes, and 
two little speckled dimpled fists. 

“You’ve hurt me,” said a childish voice, reproachfully. 

“Have I, though?” the man answered, penitently; “I 
didn’t go for to do it.” 

As he spoke he unwrapped the gray shawl and extri- 
cated a pretty little girl of about five years of age, whose 
dainty shoes and smart pink frock, with its little linen 
apron, all bespoke a mother’s care. The child was pale 
and wan, but her healthy arms and legs showed that 
she had suffered less than her companion. 

_~ “How is it now?” he answered, anxiously, for she was 
still rubbing the towsy golden curls which covered the 
back of her head. 

“Kiss it and make it well,” she said, with perfect grav- 


68 A STUDY IN SCARLET 


ity, showing the injured part up to him. “That’s what 
mother used to do. Where’s mother?” 

“Mother’s gone. I guess you'll see her before long.” 

“Gone, eh!” said the little girl. “Funny she didn’t 
say good-by; she ’most always did if she was just goin’ 
over to auntie’s for tea, and now she’s been away for 
three days. Say, its’ awful dry, ain’t it? Ain’t there no 
water nor nothing to eat?” 

“No, there ain’t nothing, dearie. You'll just need to be 
patient awhile, and then you'll be all right. Put your 
head up agin me, like that, and then you'll feel better. 
It ain’t easy to talk when your lips is like leather, but I 
guess I’d best let you know how the cards lie. What’s 
that you’ve got?” 

“Pretty things! fine things!” cried the little girl, en- 
thusiastically, holding up two glittering fragments of mica. 
“When we goes back to home I'll give them to brother 
Bob.” 

“You'll see prettier things than them soon,” said the 
man, confidently. “You just wait a bit. I was going to 
tell you, gen Arb remember when we left the river?” 

"OH, ¥ 

Well, we reckoned we'd strike another river soon, d’ye 
see. But there was somethin’ wrong ; compasses, or map, 
or somethin’, and it didn’t turn up. Water ran out. Just 
except a little drop for the likes of you and—and——” 

“And you couldn’t wash yourself,” interrupted his com- 
panion, gravely, staring up at his grimy visage. 

“No, nor drink. And Mr. Bender, he was the first 
to go, and then Indian Pete, and then Mrs. McGregor, 
and then Johnny Hones, and then, dearie, your mother.” 

“Then mother’s a deader, too,’”’ cried the little girl, 
dropping her face in her pinafore and sobbing bitterly. 

“Yes; they all went except you and me. Then I thought 
there was some chance of water in this direction, so I 
heaved you over my shoulder and we tramped it to- 
gether. It don’t seem as though we’ve improved matters. 
There’s an almighty small chance for us now!” 

“Do you mean that we are going'to die, too?” asked 


A STUDY IN SCARLET | 69 


ne child, checking her sobs, and raising her tear-stained 
ace. 

“I guess that’s about the size of it.” 

“Why didn’t you say so before?” she said, laughing 
gleefully. “You gave me such a fright. Why, ‘of course, 
now as long as we die we'll be with mother again.” 

“Yes, you will, dearie.” 

“And you, too—I’ll tell her how awful good you’ve 
been. I'll bet she meets us at the door of heaven with 
a big pitcher of water, and a lot of buckwheat cakes, 
hot, and toasted on both sides, like Bob and me was tond 
of. How long will it be first?” 

“T don’t know—not very long.” 

The man’s eyes were fixed upon the northern horizon. 
In the blue vault of heaven there appeared three little 
specks which increased in size every moment, so rapidly 
did they approach. They speedily resolved themselves 
into three large brown birds, which circled over the heads 
of the two wanderers, and then settled upon some rocks 
which overlooked them. They were buzzards, the vul- 
tures of the West, whose coming is the forerunner of 
death. 

“Cocks and hens,” cried the little girl, gleefully, point- 
ing at their ill-omened forms, and clapping her hands 
to make them rise. ‘Say, did God make this country?” 

“In course He did,” said her companion, rather star- 
tled by this unexpected question. 

“He made the country down in Illinois, and He made 
the Missouri,” the little girl continued. “I guess some- 
body else made the country in these parts. It’s not nearly 
so well done. They forgot the water and the trees.” 

“What would ye think of A ae up prayer?” the 
man asked, diffidently. 

“Tt ain’t night yet,” she arewered, 

» “Tt don’t matter. It ain’t quite regular, but He won’t 
mind that, you bet. You say over them ones that you 
used to say every night in the wagon when we was on 
the plains.” 

“Why don’t you say some yourself?” the child asked, 
with wondering eyes. 


70 A STUDY IN SCARLET 


“I disremember them,” he answered. “I hain’t said 
none since I was half the height o’ that gun. I guess 
it’s never too late. You say them out, and I'll stand 
by and come in on the choruses.” 

“Then you'll need to kneel down, and me, too,’ she 
said, laying the shawl out for that purpose. “You've 
got to put your hands up like this. It makes you feel 
kind of good.” 

It was a strange sight, had there been anything but 
the buzzards to see it. Side by side on the narrow shawl 
knelt the two wanderers, the little, prattling child and the 
reckless, hardened adventurer. Her chubby face and his 
haggard, angular visage were both turned up to the cloud- 
less heaven in heartfelt entreaty to that dread Being with 
whom they were face to face, while the two voices—the 
one thin and clear, the other deep and harsh—united in 
the entreaty for mercy and forgiveness. The prayer fin- 
ished, they resumed their seat in the shadow of the 
bowlder until the child fell asleep, nestling on the broad 
breast of her protector. He watched over her slumber for 
some time, but Nature proved too strong for him. For 
three days and three nights he had allowed himself neither 
rest nor repose. Slowly the eyelids drooped over the 
tired eyes, and the head sank lower and lower upon the 
breast, until the man’s grizzled beard was mixed with the 
golden tresses of his companion, and both slept the same 
deep and dreamless slumber. 

Had the wanderer remained awake for another half- 
hour a strange sight would have met his eyes. Far away 
on the extreme verge of the alkali plain there rose up a 
little spray of dust, very slight at first, and hardly to be 
distinguished from the mists of the distance, but grad- 
ually growing higher and broader, until it formed a solid, 
well-defined cloud. This cloud continued to increase in 
size until it became evident that it could only be raised 
by a great multitude of moving creatures. In more fertile 
spots the observer would have come to the conclusion 
that one of those great herds of bisons which graze upon 
the prairie-land was approaching him. This was ob- 
viously impossible in these arid wilds. As the whirl of 


A STUDY IN SCARLET 71 


dust drew nearer to the solitary bluff upon which the two 
castaways were reposing, the canvas-covered tilts of 
wagons and the figures of armed horsemen began 
to show up through the haze, and the apparition revealed 
itself as being a great caravan upon its journey for the 
West. But what a caravan! When the head of it had 
reached the base of the mountains, the rear was not yet 
visible on the horizon. Right across the enormous plain 
stretched the straggling array, wagons and carts, men 
on horseback, and men on foot. Innumerable women who 
staggered along under burdens, and children who toddled 
beside the wagons or peeped out from under the white 
coverings. This was evidently no ordinary party of im- 
migrants, but rather some nomad people who had been 
compelled from stress of circumstances to seek them- 
selves a new country. There rose through the clear air 
a confused\clattering and rumbling from this great mass 
of humanity, with the creaking of wheels and the neigh- 
ing of horses. Loud as it was, it was not sufficient to 
rouse the two tired wayfarers above them. 

At the head of the column there rose a score or more 
of grave, iron-faced men, clad in sober homespun gar- 
ments and armed with rifles. On reaching the base of 
the bluff they halted and held a short council among 
themselves. 

“The wells are to the right, my brothers,” said one, a 
hard-lipped, clean-shaven man with grizzly hair. 

“To the right of the Sierra Blanco—so we shall reach 
the Rio Grande,” said another. 

“Fear not for water,’ cried a third. He who could 
draw it from the rocks will not now abandon His own 
chosen people.” 

“Amen! amen!” responded the whole party. 

They were about to resume their journey when one 
of the youngest and keenest-eyed uttered an exclamation 
and pointed up at the rugged crag above them. From 
its summit there fluttered a little wisp of pink, showing 
up hard and bright against the gray rocks behind. At the 
sight there was a general reining up of horses and un- 
slinging of guns, while fresh horsemen came galloping 


> 


72 A STUDY IN SCARLET 


up to reinforce the vanguard. The word “redskins’” was 
on every lip. 

“There can’t be any number of Injuns here,” said the 
elderly man who appeared to be in command. “We have 
passed the Pawnees, and there are no other tribes until 
we cross the great mountains.” 

“Shall I go forward and see, Brother Stangerson?”’ 
asked one of the band. 

“And I,” “And I,” cried a dozen voices. 

“Leave your horses below and we will wait you here,” 
the elder answered. In a moment the young fellows 
had dismounted, fastened their horses, and were ascending 
the precipitous slope which led up to the object which 
had excited their curiosity. They advanced rapidly and 
noiselessly, with the confidence and dexterity of prac- 
ticed scouts. The watchers from the plain below could 
see them flit from rock to rock until their figures stood 
out against the sky-line. The young man who had first 
given the alarm was leading them. Suddenly his fol- 
lowers saw him throw up his hands, as though overcome 
with astonishment, and, on joining him, they were affected 
in the same way by the sight which met their eyes. 

On the little plateau which crowned the barren hill 
there stood a single giant bowlder, and against this bowl- 
' der there lay a tall man, long-bearded and hard-featured, 
but of an excessive thinness; his placid face and regular 
breathing showed that he was fast asleep. Beside him 
lay a little child, with her round white arms encircling 
his brown, sinewy neck, and her golden-haired head rest- 
ing upon the breast of his velveteen tunic. Her rosy 
lips were parted, showing the regular line of snow-white 
teeth within, and a playful smile played over her infan- 
tile features. Her plump little white legs, terminating 
in white socks and neat shoes with shining buckles, offered 
a strange contrast to the long, shriveled members of 
her companion. On the ledge of rock above this strange 
couple there stood three solemn buzzards, who, at 
the sight of the newcomers, uttered raucous screams of 
disappointment and flapped sullenly away. 

The cries of the foul birds awoke the two sleepers, 


A STUDY IN SCARLET 73 


who stared about them in bewilderment. The man stag- 
gered to his feet and looked down upon the plain which 
had been so desolate when sleep had overtaken him, and 
which was now traversed by this enormous body of men 
and beasts. His face assumed an expression of incre- 
dulity as he gazed, and he passed his bony hand over his 
eyes. 

“This is what they call delirium, I guess,” he mut- 
tered. The child stood beside him, holding on to the skirt 
of his coat, and said nothing, but looked all round her 
with the wondering, questioning gaze of childhood. 

The rescuing party were speedily able to convince the 
two castaways that their appearance was no delusion. 
One of them seized the little girl, and hoisted her upon 
his shoulder, while two others supported her gaunt com- 
panion and assisted him toward the wagons. 

“My name is John Ferrier,” the wanderer explained; 
“me and that little ’un are all that’s left o’ twenty-one 
people. The rest is all dead o’ thirst and hunger away 
down in the south.” 

“Is she your child?’ asked some one. 

“T guess she is now,” the other cried, defiantly; “she’s 
mine cause I saved her. No man will take her away from 
me. She’s Lucy Ferrier from this day on. Who are 
you, though?” he continued, glancing with curiosity at 
his stalwart, sunburned rescuers; “there seems to be a 
powerful lot of ye.” 

“Nigh upon ten thousand,” said one of the young men; 
“we are the persecuted children of God—the chosen of 
the angel Merona.”’ 

“IT never heard tell on him,” said the wanderer. “He 
appears to have chosen a fair crowd of ye.” 

“Do: not jest at that which is sacred,” said the other, 
sternly. “We are of those who believe in those sacred 
writings, drawn in Egyptian letters on plates of beaten 
gold, which were handed unto the holy Joseph Smith, 
at Palmyra. We have come from Nauvoo, in the State 
of Illinois, where we had founded our temple. We have 
come to seek a refuge from the violent man and from 
the godless, even though it be in the heart of the desert.” 


bd 


74 A STUDY IN SCARLET 


The name of Nauvoo evidently recalled recollections 
to John Ferrier. 

“T see,” he said; “you are the Mormons.” 

“We are the Mormons,” answered his companions, 
with one voice. 

“And where are you going?” 

“We do not know. The hand of God is leading us 
under the person of our prophet. You must come before 
him. He shall say what is to be done with you.” 

They had reached the base of the hill by this time, and 
were surrounded by crowds of the pilgrims—pale-faced, 
meek-looking women, strong, laughing children, and anx- 
ious, earnest-eyed men. Many were the cries of aston- 
ishment and of commiseration which arose from them 
when they perceived the youth of one of the strangers 
and the destitution of the other. Their escort did not 
halt, however, but pushed on, followed by a great crowd 
of Mormons, until they reached a wagon which was 
conspicuous for its great size and for the gaudiness and 
smartness of its appearance. Six horses were yoked to it, 
whereas the others were furnished with two, or, at most, 
four apiece. Beside the driver there sat a man who could 
not have been more than thirty years of age, but whose 
massive head and resolute expression marked him as a 
leader. He was reading a brown-backed volume, but as 
the crowd approached he iaid it aside, and listened atten- 
tively to an account of the episode. Then he turned to 
the two castaways. 

“If we take you with us,” he said, in solemn words, 
“it can only be as believers in our own creed. We shall 
have no wolves in our fold. Better far that your bones 
should bleach in this wilderness than that you should 
prove to be that little speck of decay which in time cor- 
rupts the whole fruit. Will you come with us on these 
terms?” 

“Guess Tl come with you on any terms,” said Fer- 
rier, with such emphasis that the grave elders could not 
restrain a smile. The leader alone retained his stern, im- 
pressive expression, 

“Take him, Brother Stangerson,” he said; “give him 


A STUDY IN SCARLET 75 


food and drink, and the child likewise. Let it be your 
task also to teach him our holy creed. We have delayed 
long enough. Forward! On, on to Zion!” 

“On, on to Zion!” cried the crowd of Mormons, and 
the words rippled down the long caravan, passing from 
mouth to mouth until they died away in a dull murmur 
in the far distance. With a cracking of whips and a 
creaking of wheels the great wagon got into motion, and 
soon the whole caravan was winding along once more. 
The elder to whose care the two waifs had been commit- 
ted led them to his wagon, where a meal was already 
awaiting them. 

“You shall remain here,” he said. “In a few days 
you will have recovered from your fatigues. In the mean- 
time, remember that now and forever you are of our re- 
ligion. Brigham Young has said it, and he has spoken 
with the voice of Joseph Smith, which is the voice of 


God.” 
CHAPTER II 
THE FLOWER OF UTAH 


TuHIs is not the place to commemorate the trials and 
privations endured by the immigrant Mormons before 
they came to their final haven. From the shores of the 
Mississippi to the western slopes of the Rocky Mountains 
they had struggled on with a constancy almost unparal- 
leled in history. The savage man and the savage beast, 
hunger, thirst, fatigue, and disease—every impediment 
which Nature could place in the way, had all been over- 
come with Anglo-Saxon tenacity. Yet the long journey 
and the accumulated terrors had shaken the hearts of the 
stoutest among them. There was not one who did not 
sink upon his knees in heartfelt prayer when they saw 
the broad valley of Utah bathed in the sunlight beneath 
them, and learned from the lips of their leader that this 
was the promised land, and that these virgin acres were 
to be theirs forevermore. 

Young speedily proved himself to be a skillful admin- 
istrator, as well as a resolute chief. Maps were drawn 


76 A STUDY IN SCARLET 


and charts prepared, in which the future city was sketched 
out. All around farms were apportioned and allotted in 
proportion to the standing of each individual. The trades- 
man was put to his trade and the artisan to his calling. 
In the town streets and squares sprang up as if by magic. 
In the country there was draining and hedging, planting 
and clearing, until the next summer saw the whole country 
golden with the wheat crop. Everything prospered in the 
strange settlement. Above all, the great temple which 
they had erected in the center of the city grew taller 
and larger. From the first blush of dawn until the closing 
of the twilight the clatter of the hammer and the rasp 
of the saw was never absent from the monument which 
the emigrants erected to Him who had led them safe 
through many dangers. 

The two castaways, John Ferrier and the little girl who 
had shared his fortunes and had been adopted as his 
daughter, accompanied the Mormons to the end of their 
great pilgrimage. Little Lucy Ferrier was borne along 
pleasantly enough in Elder Stangerson’s wagon, a retreat 
which she shared with the Mormon’s three wives and with 
his son, a headstrong, forward boy of twelve. Having 
rallied, with the elasticity of childhood, from the shock 
caused by her mother’s death, she soon became a pet with 
the women, and reconciled herself to this new life in her 
moving canvas-covered home. In the meantime Ferrier, 
having recovered from his privations, distinguished him- 
self as a useful guide and an indefatigable hunter. So 
rapidly did he gain the esteem of his new companions 
that when they reached the end of their wanderings it 
was unanimously agreed that he should be provided with 
as large and fertile a tract of land as any of the settlers, 
with the exception of Young himself, and of Stangerson, 
Kimball, Johnston, and Drebber, who were the four prin- 
cipal elders. ; 

On the farm thus acquired John Ferrier built himself 
a substantial log-house, which received so many additions 
in succeeding years that it grew into a roomy villa. He 
was a man of a practical turn of mind, keen in his deal- 
ings, and skillful with his hands. His iron constitution 


A STUDY IN SCARLET V7 


enabled him to work morning and evening at improving 
and tilling his lands. Hence it came about that his farm 
and all that belonged to him prospered exceedingly. In 
three years he was better off than his neighbors, in six he 
was well-to-do, in nine he was rich, and in twelve there 
were not half a dozen men in the whole of Salt Lake 
City who could compare with him. From the great inland 
sea to the distant Wahsatch Mountains there was no name 
better known than that of John Ferrier. 

There was one way, and only one, in which he offended 
the susceptibilities of his co-religionists. No argument 
or persuasion could ever induce him to set up a female 
establishment after the manner of his companions. He 
never gave reasons for this persistent refusal, but con- 
tented himself by resolutely and inflexibly adhering to his 
determination. There were some who accused him of 
lukewarmness in his adopted religion, and others who put 
it down to greed of wealth and reluctance to incur ex- 
pense. Others, again, spoke of some early love affair, 
and of a fair-haired girl who had pined away on the 
shores of the Atlantic. Whatever the reason, Ferrier re- 
mained strictly celibate. In every other respect he con- 
formed to the religion of the young settlement, and 
gained the: name of being an orthodox and straight- 
walking man. 

Lucy Ferrier grew up within the log-house, and as- 
sisted her adopted father in all his undertakings. The 
keen air of the mountains and the balsamic odor of the 
pine-trees took the place of nurse and mother to the 
young girl. As year succeeded to year she grew taller and 
stronger, her cheek more ruddy, and her step more elastic. 
Many a wayfarer upon the high road which ran by 
Ferrier’s farm felt long-forgotten thoughts revive in his 
mind as he watched her lithe, girlish figure tripping 
through the wheat-fields, or met her mounted upon her 
father’s mustang, and managing it with all the ease and 
grace of a true child of the West. So the bud blos- 
somed into a flower, and the year which saw her father 
the richest of the farmers left her as fair a specimen of 


78 A STUDY IN SCARLET 


American girlhood as could be found in the whole Pacific 
slope. 

It was not the father, however, who first discovered 
that the child had developed into the woman. It seldom 
is in such cases. That mysterious change is too subtle 
and too gradual to be measured by dates. Least of all 
does the maiden herself know it until the tone of a voice 
or the touch of a hand sets her heart thrilling within 
her, and she learns, with a mixture of pride and of fear, 
that a new and larger nature has awakened within her. 
There are few who cannot recall that day and remem- 
ber the one little incident which heralded the dawn of a 
new life. In the case of Lucy Ferrier the occasion was 
serious enough in itself, apart from its future influence 
on her destiny and that of many besides. 

It was a warm June morning, and the Latter-Day Saints 
were as busy as the bees whose hives they have chosen 
for their emblem. In the fields and in the streets rose 
the same hum of human industry. Down the dusty high- 
roads defiled long streams of heavily laden mules, all 
heading to the West, for the gold fever had broken out 
in California, and the overland Route lay through the 
City of the Elect. There, too, were droves of sheep and 
bullocks coming in from the outlying pasture lands, and 
trains of tired immigrants, men and horses equally weary 
of their interminable journey. Through all this motley 
assemblage, threading her way with the skill of an ac- 
complished rider, there galloped Lucy Ferrier, her fair 
face flushed with the exercise and her long chestnut hair 
floating out behind her. She had a commission from 
her father in the city, and was dashing in as she had 
done many a time before, with all the fearlessness of 
youth, thinking only of her task and how it was to be 
performed. The travel-stained adventurers gazed after 
her in astonishment, and even the unemotional Indians, 
journeying in with their peltry, relaxed their accustomed 
stoicism as they marveled at the beauty of the pale-faced 
maiden. 

She had reached the outskirts of the city when she 
found the road blocked by a great drove of cattle, driven 


\ 


A STUDY IN SCARLET 12 


by half a dozen wild-looking herdsmen from the plains. 
In her impatience she endeavored to pass this obstacle 
by pushing her horse into what appeared to be a gap. 
Searcely had she got fairly into it, however; before the 
beasts closed in behind her, and she found herself com- 
pletely imbedded in the moving stream of fierce-eyed, 
long-horned bullocks. Accustomed as she was to deal 
with cattle, she was not alarmed at her situation, but took 
advantage of every opportunity to urge her horse on in 
the hope of pushing her way through the cavaicade. Un- 
fortunately the horns of one of the creatures, either by 
accident or design, came in violent contact with the flank 
of the mustang, and excited it to madness. In an instant 
it reared up upon its hind legs with a snort of rage, 
and pranced and tossed in a way that would have un- 
seated any but a most skillful rider. The situation was 
full of peril. Every plunge of the excited horse brought 
it against the horns again, and goaded it to fresh mad- 
ness. It was all that the girl could do to keep herself in 
the saddle, yet a slip would mean a terrible death under 
the hoofs of the unwieldy and terrified animals. Un- 
accustomed to sudden emergencies, her head began to 
swim and her grip upon the bridle to relax. Choked by 
the rising cloud of dust and by the steam from the 
struggling creatures, she might have abandoned her efforts 
in despair but for a kindly voice at her elbow which as- 
sured her of assistance. At the same moment a sinewy 
brown hand caught the frightened horse by the curb, and, 
forcing a way through the drove, soon brought her to the 
outskirts. 

“You’re not hurt, I hope, miss,” said her preserver, 
respectfully. 

She looked up at his dark, fierce face, and laughed 
saucily. 

“T’m awfully frightened,” she said, naively; “who- 
ever would have thought that Poncho would have been 
so scared by a lot of cows?” 

“Thank God you kept your seat,” the other said, 
earnestly. He was a tall, savage-looking young fellow, 
mounted on a powerful roan horse, and clad in the rough 


80 A STUDY IN SCARLET 


dress of a hunter, with a long rifle slung over his shoul- 
der. “I guess you are the daughter of John Ferrier,” 
he remarked. “I saw you ride down from his house. 
When you see him, ask him if he remembers the Jeffer- 
son Hopes of St. Louis. If he’s the same Ferrier, my 
father and he were pretty thick.” 

“Hadn’t you better come and ask yourself?” she asked, 
demurely. 

The young fellow seemed pleased at the suggestion, 
and his dark eyes sparkled with pleasure. 

“T’ll do so,’ he said; “we’ve been in the mountains 
for two months, and are not over and above in seniors 3 
condition. He must take us as he finds us.’ 

“He has a good deal to thank you for, and so have. 
I,” she answered; “he’s awful fond of me. If those 
cows had jumped on me he’d have never got over it.” 

“Neither would I,” said her companion. 

“Your Well, I don’t see that it would make much 
matter to you, ‘anyhow. You ain’t even a friend of 
ours.’ 

The young hunter’s dark face grew so gloomy over 
this remark that Lucy Ferrier laughed aloud. 

“There, I didn’t mean that,” she said; “of course you 
are a friend now. You must come and see us. Now I 
must push along, or father won’t trust me with his busi- 
ness any more. Good-by.” 

.“Good-by,” he answered, raising his broad sombrero 
and bending over her little hand. She wheeled her mus- 
tang round, gave it a cut with her riding-whip, and 
darted away down the broad road in a rolling cloud of 
dust. 

Young Jefferson Hope rode on with his companions, 
gloomy and taciturn. He and they had been among the 
Nevada Mountains prospecting for silver, and were re- 
turning to Salt Lake City in the hope of raising capital 
enough to work some lodes which they had discovered. 
He had been as keen as any of them upon the business 
until this sudden incident had drawn his thoughts into 
another channel. The sight of the fair young girl, as 
frank and wholesome as the Sierra breezes, had stirred 


A STUDY IN SCARLET 81 


his volcanic, untamed heart to its very depths. When 
she had vanished from his sight he realized that a crisis 
had come in his life, and that neither silver speculations 
nor any other questions could ever be of such importance 
to him as this new and all-absorbing one. The love which 
had sprung up in his heart was not the sudden, changeable 
fancy of a boy, but rather the wild, fierce passion of a 
man of strong will and imperious temper. He had been 
accustomed to succeed in all that he undertook. He swore 
in his heart he would not fail in this if human effort and 
human perseverance could render him successful. 

He called on John Ferrier that night, and many times 
again, until his face was a familiar one at the farm- 
house. John, cooped up in the valley and absorbed in his 
work, had little chance of learning the news from the 
outside world during the last twelve years. All this Jef- 
ferson Hope was able to tell him, and in a style which 
interested Lucy as well as her father. He had been a 
pioneer in California, and could narrate many a strange 
tale of fortunes made and fortunes lost in those wild, 
halcyon days. He had been a scout, too, and a trapper, 
a silver explorer, and a ranchman. Wherever stirring ad- 
ventures were to be had, Jefferson Hope had been there 
in search of them. He soon became a favorite with the 
old farmer, who spoke eloquently of his virtues. On 
such occasions Lucy was silent, but her blushing cheek 
and her bright, happy eyes, showed only too clearly that 
her young heart was no longer her own. Her honest 
father may not have observed these symptoms, but they 
were assuredly not thrown away upon the man who had 
won her affections. 

It was a summer evening when he came galloping 
down the road and pulled up at the gate. She was at 
the doorway, and came down to meet him. He threw the 
bridle over the fence and strode up the pathway. 

“I am off, Lucy,” he said, taking her two hands in 
his and gazing tenderly down into her face; “I won't 
ask you to come with me now, but will you be ready to 
come when I am here again?” | 


82 A STUDY IN SCARLET 


“And when will that ber” she asked, blushing and 
laughing. : 

“A couple of months at the outside. I will come and 
claim you then, my darling. There’s no one who can 
stand between us.” 

‘And how about father?’ she asked. 

“He has given his consent, provided we get these mines 
working all right. I have no fear on that head.” 

“Oh, well, of course, if you and father have arranged 
it all, there’s no more to be said,” she whispered, with 
her cheek against his broad breast. 

“Thank God!” he said, hoarsely, stooping and kissing 
her. “It is settled then. The longer I stay the harder 
it will be for me to go. They are waiting for me at the 
canyon. Good-by, my own darling—good-by. In two 
months you shall see me.” 

He tore himself from her as he spoke, and, flinging 
himself upon his horse, galloped furiously away, never 
even looking round, as though afraid that his resolution 
might fail him if he took one glance at what he was 
leaving. She stood at the gate, gazing after him until 
he vanished from sight. Then she walked back into the 
house, the happiest girl in all Utah. 


CHAPLER if 


JOHN FERRIER TALKS WITH THE PROPHET 


THREE weeks had passed since Jefferson Hope and his 
comrades had departed from Salt Lake City. John Fer- 
rier’s heart was sore within him when he thought of 
the young man’s return, and of the impending loss of his 
adopted child. Yet her bright and happy face reconciled 
him to the arrangement more than any argument could 
have done. He had always determined, deep down in 
his resolute heart, that nothing would ever induce him 
to allow his daughter to wed a Mormon. Such a marriage 
he regarded as no marriage at all, but as a shame and a 
disgrace. Whatever he might think of the Mormon doc- 
trines, upon that one point he was inflexible. He had 
to seal his mouth on the subject, however, for to ex- 


A STUDY IN SCARLET 83 


press an unorthodox opinion was a dangerous matter 
in those days in the Land of the Saints. 

Yes, a dangerous matter—so dangerous that even the 
most saintly dared only whisper their religious opinions 
with bated breath, lest something which fell from their 
lips might be misconstrued and bring down a swift retri- 
bution upon them. The victims of persecution had now 
turned persecutors on their own account, and _ perse- 
cutors of the most terrible description. Not the in- 
quisition of Seville, nor the German Vehmgericht, nor 
the secret societies of Italy, were ever able to put a more 
formidable machinery in motion than that which cast a 
cloud over the Territory of Utah. 

Its invisibility, and the mystery which was attached 
to it, made this organization doubly terrible. It appeared 
to be omniscent and omnipotent, and yet was neither seen 
nor heard. The man who held out against the church 
vanished away, and none knew whither he had gone or 
what had befallen him. His wife and children awaited 
him at home, but no father had ever returned to tell 
them how he had fared at the hands of his secret judges. 
A rash word or a hasty act was followed by annihilation, 
and yet none knew what the nature might be of this 
terrible power which was suspended over them. No won- 
der that men went about in fear and trembling, and that 
even in the heart of the wilderness they dared not whisper 
the doubts which oppressed them. 

At first this vague and terrible power was exercised 
only upon the recalcitrants, who, having embraced the 
Mormon faith, wished afterward to pervert or to abandon 
it. Soon, however, it took a wider range. The supply of 
adult women was running short, and polygamy, without 
a female population on which to draw, was a barren doc- 
trine indeed. Strange rumors began to be bandied about 
—rumors of murdered immigrants and rifled camps in 
tegions where Indians had never been seen. Fresh women 
appeared in the harems of the elders—women who pined 
and wept, and bore upon their faces the traces of an un- 
extinguishable horror. Belated wanderers upon the 
mountains spoke of gangs of armed men, masked, stealthy, 


84 A STUDY IN SCARLET 


and noiseless, who flitted by them in the darkness. These 
tales and rumors took substance and shape, and were 
corroborated and recorroborated, until they resolved 
themselves into a definite name. To this day, in the 
lonely ranches of the West, the name of the Danite 
Band, or the Avenging Angels, is a sinister and an ill- 
omened one. 

Fuller knowledge of the organization which produced 
such terrible results served to increase rather than to 
lessen the horror which it inspired in the minds of men. 
None knew who belonged to this ruthless society. The 
names of the participators in the deeds of blood and 
violence, done under the name of religion, were kept 
profoundly secret. The very friend to whom you com- 
municated your misgivings as to the prophet and his mis- 
sion might be one of those who would come forth at night 
with fire and sword to exact a terrible reparation. Hence 
every man feared his neighbor, and none spoke of the 
things which were nearest his heart. 

One fine morning John Ferrier was about to set out 
to his wheat fields when he heard the click of the latch, 
and, looking through the window, saw a stout, sandy- 
haired, middle-aged man coming up the pathway. His 
heart leaped to his mouth, for this was none other than 
the great Brigham Young himself. Full of trepidation, 
for he knew that such a visit boded him little good, Fer- 
rier ran to the door to greet the Mormon chief. The 
latter, however, received his salutation coldly, and followed 
him with a stern face into the sitting-room. 

“Brother Ferrier,’ he said, taking a seat and eyeing 
the farmer keenly from under his light-colored eye-lashes, 
“the true believers have been good friends to you. We 
picked you up when you were starving in the desert, we 
shared our food with you, led you safe to the Chosen 
Valley, gave you a goodly share of land, and allowed you 
to wax rich under our protection. Is not this so?” 

“It is so,” answered John Ferrier. 

“In return for all this we asked but one condition: 
that was, that you should embrace the true faith, and con- 
form in every way to its usages. This you promised 


A STUDY IN SCARLET 85 


to do, and this, if common report says truly, you have 
neglected.”’ 

“And how have I neglected it?” asked Ferrier, throwing 
out his hands in expostulation. “Have I not given to the 
common fund? Have I not attended at the temple? 
Have I not - 

“Where are your wives?” asked Young, looking round 
him. “Call them in, that I may greet them.” 

“Tt is true that I have not married,” Ferrier answered. 
“But women were few, and there were many who had bet- 
ter claims than I. I was not a lonely man; I had my 
daughter to attend to my wants.” 

“It is of the daughter that I would speak to you,” said 
the leader of the Mormons. “She has grown to be the 
flower of Utah, and has found favor in the eyes of many 
who are high in the land.” 

John Ferrier groaned internally. 

“There are stories of her which I would fain disbe- 
lieve—stories that she is sealed to some Gentile. This 
must be the gossip of idle tongues. What is the thir- 
teenth rule in the code of the sainted Joseph Smith? 
‘Let every maiden of the true faith marry. one of the 
elect; for if she wed a Gentile, she commits a grievous 
sin.’ This being so, it is impossible that you, who pro- 
fess the holy creed, should suffer your daughter to vio- 
late’ it.' 

John Ferrier made no answer, but he played nervously 
with his riding-whip. 

“Upon this one point your whole faith shall be tested— 
so it has been decided in the Sacred Council of Four. 
The girl is young, and we would not have her wed gray 
hairs, neither would we deprive her of all choice. We 
elders have many heifers,* but our children must also 
be provided. Stangerson has a son, and Drebber has 
a son, and either of them would gladly welcome vour 
daughter to their house. Let her choose between them. 
They are young and rich, and of the true faith. What 
say you to that?” 


* Heber C. Kimball, in one of his sermons, alludes to his hundred 
wives under this endearing epithet. 


5 


86 A STUDY IN SCARLET 


Ferrier remained silent for some little time with his 
brows knitted. 

“You will give us time,” he said, at last. “My daugh- 
ter is very young—she is scarce of an age to marry.” 

“She shall have a month to choose,” said Young, ris- 
ing from his seat. “At the end of that time she shall 
give her answer.” 

He was passing through the door when he turned, with 
flushed face and flashing eyes. 

“Tt were better for you, John Ferrier,’ he thundered, 
“that you and she were now lying blanched skeletons upon 
the Sierra Blanco, than that you should put your weak 
wills against the orders of the Holy Four!” 

With a threatening gesture of his hand he turned from 
the door, and Ferrier heard his heavy step scrunching 
along the shingly path. 

He was still sitting with his elbows upon his knees, 
considering how he should broach the matter to his 
daughter, when a soft hand was laid upon his, and, look- 
ing up, he saw her standing beside him. One glance at 
her pale, frightened face showed him that she had heard 
what had passed. 

“T could not help it,” she said, in answer to his look. 
“His voice rang through the house. Oh, father! father! 
what shall we do?” 

“Don’t you scare yourself,” he answered, drawing her 
to him and passing his broad, rough hand caressingly 
over her chestnut hair. “We’ll fix it up somehow or an- 
other. You don’t find your fancy kind o’ lessening for 
this chap, do you?” 

A sob and a squeeze of his hand was her only answer. 

“No; of course not. I shouldn’t care to hear you say 
you did. He’s a likely lad, and he’s a Christian, which 
is more than these folks here, in spite o’ all their praying 
and preaching. There’s a party starting for Nevada to- 
morrow, and I’ll manage to send him a message letting 
him know the hole we are in. If I know anything o’ 
that young man, he'll be back here with a speed that 
would whip electro-telegraphs.”’ 


A STUDY IN SCARLET 87 


_ Lucy laughed through her tears at her father’s descrip- 
tion, 

“When he comes, he will advise us for the best. But 
it is for you that I am frightened, dear. One hears— 
one hears such dreadful stories about those who oppose 
the prophet; something terrible always happens to them.” 

“But we haven’t opposed him yet,” her father an- 
swered. “It will be time to look out for squalls when 
we do. We have a clear month before us; at the end of 
that I guess we had best shin out of Utah.” 

“Leave Utah?” 

“That’s about the size of it.” 

“But the farm?” 

“We will raise as much as we can in money, and let 
the rest go. To tell the truth, Lucy, it isn’t the first 
time [I have thought of doing it. I don’t care about 
knuckling under to any man, as these folk do to their 
darned prophet. I’m a free-born American, and it’s all 
new to me. Guess I’m too old to learn. If he comes 
browsing about this farm he might chance to run up 
against a charge of buckshot traveling in the opposite 
direction.” 

“But they won’t let us leave,” his daughter objected. 

“Wait till Jefferson comes, and we'll soon manage 
that. In the meantime, don’t you fret yourself, my 
dearie, and don’t get your eyes swelled up, or else he’ll 
be walking into me when he sees you. There’s nothing 
to be afeard about, and there’s no danger at all.” 

John Ferrier uttered those consoling remarks in a very 
confident tone, but she could not help observing that 
he paid unusual care to the fastening of the doors that 
night, and that he carefully cleaned and loaded the rusty 
old shotgun which hung upon the wall of his bedroom. 


CHAPTER IV 


A FLIGHT FOR LIFE 


On the morning which followed his interview with the 
Mormon prophet, John Ferrier went into Salt Lake City, 


88 A STUDY IN SCARLET 


and having found his acquaintance who was bound for the 
Nevada Mountains, he intrusted him with his message 
to Jefferson Hope. In it he told the young man of the 
imminent danger which threatened them, and how neces- 
sary it was that he should return. Having done this, 
he felt easier in his mind, and returned home with a 
lighter heart. 

As he approached his farm he was surprised to see a 
horse hitched to each of the posts of the gate. Still more 
surprised was he on entering to find two young men in 
possession of the sitting-room. One, with a long, pale 
face, was leaning back in the rocking chair, with his feet 
cocked up upon the stove. The other, a bull-necked 
youth, with coarse, bloated features, was standing in 
front of the window, with his hands in his pockets, whis- 
tling a popular hymn. Both of them nodded to Ferrier as 
he entered, and the one in the rocking chair commenced 
the conversation. 

“Maybe you don’t know us,” he said. “This here is 
the son of Elder Drebber, and I’m Joseph Stangerson, 
who traveled with you in the desert when the Lord 
stretched out His hand and gathered you into the true 
fold.” 

“As he will all the nations, in his own good time,” 
said the other, in a nasal voice; “He grindeth slowly, but 
exceeding small.” 

John Ferrier bowed coldly. He had guessed who his 
visitors were. 

“We have come,” continued Stangerson, “at the advice 
of our fathers, to solicit the hand of your daughter for 
whichever of us may seem good to you and to her. As 
I have but four wives and Brother Drebber here has 
seven, it appears to me that my claim is the stronger 
one. 

“Nay, nay, Brother Stangerson,” cried the other; “the 
question is not how many wives we have, but how many 
we can keep. My father has now given over his mills 
to me, and I am the richer man.” 

“But my prospects are better,” said the other, warmly. 
“When the Lord removes my father I shall have his 


3 


A STUDY IN SCARLET 89 


tanning yard and his leather factory. Then I am your 
elder, and am higher in the church.” 

“It will be for the maiden to decide,” rejoined young 
Drebber, smirking at his own reflection in the glass. 
“We will leave it all to her decision.” 

During this dialogue John Ferrier had stood fuming 
in the doorway, hardly able to keep his riding-whip from 
the backs of his two visitors. 

“Look here,’ he said, at last, striding up to them; 
“when my daughter summons you, you can come; until 
then, I don’t want to see your faces again.” 

The two young Mormons stared at him in amazement. 
In their eyes this competition between them for the 
maiden’s hand was the highest of honors both to her and 
her father. 

“There are two ways out of the room,” cried Ferrier; 
“there is the door, and there is the window. Which do 
you care to use?” 

His brown face looked so savage, and his gaunt hands 
so threatening, that his visitors sprang to their feet and 
beat a hurried retreat. ‘The old farmer followed them 
to the door. 

“Let me know when you have settled which it is to be,” 
he said, sardonically. 

“You shall smart for this!’ Stangerson cried, white 
with rage. ‘You have defied the prophet and the Council 
of Four. You shall rue it to the end of your days.” 

“The hand of the Lord shall be heavy upon you,” cried 
young Drebber; “He will arise and smite you!” 

“Then I’ll start the smiting,’ exclaimed Ferrier, fu- 
riously, and he would have rushed up stairs for his gun 
had not Lucy seized him by the arm and restrained 
him. Before he could escape from her the clatter of 
horses’ hoofs told him that they were beyond his reach. 

“The young canting rascals!” he exclaimed, wiping the 
perspiration from his forehead; “I would sooner see you 
in your grave, my girl, than the wife of either of them.” 

“And so should I, father,’ she answered, with spirit; 
“but Jefferson will soon be here.” | 

“Yes; it will not be long before he comes. The sooner 


? 


90 A STUDY IN SCARLET 


the better, for we do not know what their next move 
may be.” 

It was, indeed, high time that some one capable of giv- 
ing advice and help should come to the aid of the sturdy 
old farmer and his adopted daughter. In the whole his- 
tory of the settlement there had never been such a case of 
rank disobedience to the authority of the elders. If 
minor errors were punished so sternly, what would be 
the fate of this arch rebel? Ferrier knew that his wealth 
and position would be of no avail to him. Others as 
well known and as rich as himself had been spirited away 
before now, and their goods given over to the church. 
He was a brave man, but he trembled at the vague, 
shadowy terrors which hung over him. Any known dan- 
ger he could face with a firm lip, but this suspense was 
unnerving. He concealed his fears from his daughter, 
however, and affected to make light of the whole matter, 
though she, with the keen eye of love, saw plainly that he 
was ill at ease. 

He expected that he would receive some message or 
remonstrance from Young as to his conduct and he was 
not mistaken, though it came in an unlooked-for surprise, 
a small square of paper pinned on the coverlet of his 
bed just over his chest. On it was printed, in bold, strag- 
gling letters: 


“Twenty-nine days are given you for amendment, and 
then——” 


The dash was more fear-inspiring than any threat 
could have been. How this warning came into his room 
puzzled John Ferrier sorely, for his servants slept in an 
out-house, and the doors and windows had all been se- 
cured. He crumpled the paper up and said nothing to 
his daughter, but the incident struck a chill into his 
heart. The twenty-nine days were evidently the balance 
of the month which Young had promised. What strength 
or courage could avail.against an enemy armed with such 
mysterious powers? The hand which fastened that pin 
might have struck him to the heart, and he could never 
have known who had slain him. 


A STUDY IN SCARLET 91 


Still more shaken was he next morning. They had sat 
down to their breakfast when Lucy, with a cry of sur- 
prise, pointed upward. In the center of the ceiling was 
scrawled, with a burned stick apparently, the number 28. 
To his daughter it was unintelligible, and he did not 
enlighten her. That night he sat up with his gun and 
kept watch and ward. He saw and he heard nothing, 
and yet in the morning a great 27 had been painted upon 
the outside of his door. 

Thus day followed day; and as sure as morning came 
he found that his unseen enemies had kept their regis- 
ter, and had marked up in some conspicuous position 
how many days were still left to him out of the month 
of grace. Sometimes the fatal numbers appeared upon 
the walls, sometimes upon the floors; occasionally they 
were on small placards stuck upon the garden gate or the 
railings. With all his vigilance John Ferrier could not 
discover whence these daily warnings proceeded. A hor- 
ror, which was almost superstitious, came upon him at 
the sight of them. He became haggard and restless, and 
his eyes had the troubled look of some haunted creature. 
He had but one hope in life now, and that was for the 
arrival of the young hunter from Nevada. 

Twenty had changed to fifteen, and fifteen to ten; but 
there was no news of the absentee. One by one the num- 
bers dwindled down, and still there came no sign of him. 
Whenever a horseman clattered down the road or a driver 
shouted at his team, the old farmer hurried to the gate, 
thinking that help had arrived at last. At last, when he 
saw five giving way to four, and that again to three, he 
lost heart and abandoned all hope of escape. Single- 
handed, and with his limited knowledge of the moun- 
tains which surrounded the settlement, he knew that he 
was powerless. The more frequented roads were strictly 
watched and guarded, and none could pass along them 
without an order from the council. Turn which way he 
would, there appeared to be no avoiding the blow which 
hung over him. Yet the old man never wavered in his 
resolution to part with life itself before he consented 
to what he regarded as his daughter’s dishonor. 


92 A STUDY IN SCARLET 


He was sitting alone one evening, pondering deeply 
over his troubles, and searching vainly for some way out 
of them, That morning had shown the figure 2 upon 
the wall of his house, and the next day would be the last 
of the allotted time. What was to happen then? All 
manner of vague and terrible fancies filled his imagina- 
tion. And his daughter—what was to become of her 
after he was gone? Was there no escape from the in- 
visible network which was drawn all around them? He 
sunk his head upon the table and sobbed at the thought 
of his own impotence. 

What was that? In the silence he heard a gentle 
scratching sound—low, but very distinct, in the quiet 
of the night. It came from the door of the house. Fer- 
rier crept into the hall and listened intently. There was a 
pause for a few moments, and then the low, insidious 
sound was repeated. Some one was evidently tapping very 
gently upon one of the panels of the door. Was it some 
midnight assassin who had come to carry out the mur- 
derous order of the secret tribunal? Or was it some 
agent who was marking up that the last day of grace 
had arrived? John Ferrier felt that instant death would 
be better than the suspense which shook his nerves and 
chilled his heart. Springing forward, he drew the bolt 
and threw the door open. 

Outside all was calm and quiet. The night was fine, 
and the stars were twinkling brightly overhead. The little 
front garden lay before the farmer’s eyes, bounded by 
the fence and gate; but neither there nor on the road 
was any human being to be seen. With a sigh of relief 
Ferrier looked to right and to left, until, happening to 
glance straight down at his feet, he saw, to his aston- 
ishment, a man lying flat upon his face upon the ground, 
with his arms and legs all asprawl. 2 

So unnerved was he at the sight that he leaned up 
against the wall with his hand to his throat to stifle his in- 
clination to call out. His first thought was that the pros- 
rate figure was that of some wounded or dying man, but as 
he watched it he saw it writhe along the ground and into 
the hall with the rapidity and noiselessness of a serpent. 


A STUDY IN SCARLET 93 


Once within the house the man sprung to his feet, closed 
the door, and revealed to the astonished farmer the fierce 
face and resolute expression of Jefferson Hope. 

“Good God!” gasped John Ferrier. “How you scared 
me! What ever made you come in like that?’ 

“Give me food,” the other said, hoarsely. “I have had 
no time for bite or sup for eight-and-forty hours.” He 
flung himself upon the cold meat and bread which were 
still lying upon the table from his host’s supper, and de- 
voured them voraciously. “Does Lucy bear up well?” 
he asked, when he had satisfied his hunger. 

“Ves; she does not know the danger,” her father an- 
swered., 

“That is well. The house is watched on every side. 
That is why I crawled my way up to it. They may be 
darned sharp, but they’re not quite sharp enough to 
catch a Washoe hunter.” 

John Ferrier felt a different man now that he realized 
that he had a devoted ally. He seized the young man’s 
leathery hand and wrung it cordially. 

“You’re a man to be proud of,” he said. ‘There are 
not many who would come to share our danger and our 
troubles.” 

“You've hit it there, pard,” the young hunter answered. 
“TI have a respect for you, but if you were alone in this 
business I’d think twice before I put my head into such 
a hornets’ nest. It’s Lucy that brings me here, and be- 
fore harm comes on her I guess there will be one less 0’ 
the Hope family in Utah.” 

“What are we to do?” 

“To-morrow is your last day, and unless you act 
to-night you are lost. I have a mule and two horses 
meting in the Eagle Ravine. How much money have 

ou?” 

“Two thousand dollars in gold, and five in notes.” 

“That will do. I have as much more to add to it. We 
must push for Carson City through the mountains. You 
had best wake Lucy. It. is as well that the servants do 
not sleep in the house.” 

While Ferrier was absent preparing his daughter for 


94 A STUDY IN SCARLET 


the approaching journey, Jefferson Hope packed all the 
eatables that he could find into a small parcel, and filled 
a stoneware jar with water, for he knew by experience 
that the mountain wells were few and far between. He 
had hardly completed his arrangements before the farmer 
returned with his daughter, all dressed and ready for 
a start. The greeting between the lovers was warm but 
brief, for minutes were precious, and there was much to be 
done. : 

“We must make our start at once,” said Jefferson Hope, 
speaking in a low but resolute voice, like one who realizes 
the greatness of the peril, but has steeled his heart to meet 
it. “The front and back entrances are watched, but with 
caution we may get away through the side window and 
across the fields. Once on the road, we are only two 
miles from the ravine where the horses are waiting. By 
daybreak we should be half-way through the mountains.” 

“What if we are stopped?” asked Ferrier. 

Hope slapped the revolver butt which protruded from 
the front of his tunic. 

“If they are too many for us, we shall take two or 
three of them with us,” he said, with a sinister smile. 

The lights inside the house had all been extinguished, 
and from the darkened window Ferrier peered over the 
fields which had been his own, and which he was now 
about to abandon forever. He had long nerved himself 
to the sacrifice, however, and the thought of the honor and 
happiness of his daughter outweighed any regret at his 
ruined fortunes. All looked so peaceful and happy, th: 
rustling trees and the broad, silent stretch of grain land, 
that it was difficult to realize that the spirit of murder 
lurked through it all. Yet the white face and set expres- 
sion of the young hunter showed that in his approach to 
ee hay he had seen enough to satisfy him upon that 
head. 

Ferrier carried the bag of gold and notes, Jefferson 
Hope had the scanty provisions and water, while Lucy 
had a small bundle containing a few of her more valuable 
possessions. Opening the window very slowly and care- 
fully, they waited until a dark cloud had somewhat ob- 


A STUDY IN SCARLET 95 


scured the night, and then one by one passed through 
into the little garden. With bated breath and crouching 
figures they stumbled across it and gained the shelter of 
the hedge, which they skirted until they came to the gap 
which opened into the cornfield. They had just reached 
this point when the young man seized his two compan- 
ions and dragged them down into the shadow, where they 
lay silent and trembling. 

It was as well that his prairie training had given 
Jefferson Hope the ears of a lynx. He and his friends 
had hardly crouched down before the melancholy hoot- 
ing of a mountain owl was heard within a few yards of 
them, which was immediately answered by another hoot 
at a small distance. At the same moment a vague, shad- 
owy figure emerged from the gap for which they had been 
making, and uttered the plaintive signal cry again, on 
which a second man appeared out of the obscurity. 

“To-morrow at midnight,” said the first, who appeared 
to be in authority. ‘When the whip-poor-will calls three 
times.” 

“It is well,” returned the other. “Shall I tell Brother 
Drebber °°’ 

“Pass it on to him, and from him to the others. Nine 
to seven!” 

“Seven to five!” repeated the other, and the two figures 
flitted away in different directions. Their concluding 
words had evidently been some form of sign and coun- 
tersign. The instant that their footsteps had died away 
in the distance Jefferson Hope sprang to his feet, and, 
helping his companions through the gap, led the way 
across the fields at full speed, supporting and half carry- 
ing the girl when her strength appeared to fail her. 

“Hurry on! hurry on!” he gasped from time to time. 
“We are through the line of sentinels. Everything de- 
pends on speed. Hurry on!” 

Once on the high-road they made rapid progress. Only 
once did they meet any one, and then they managed to 
slip into a field, and so avoid recognition. Before reach- 
ing the town the hunter branched away into a rugged 
and narrow footpath which led to the mountains. Two 


96 A STUDY IN SCARLET 


dark, jagged peaks loomed above them through the dark- 
ness, and the defile which led between them was the Eagle 
Ravine, in which the horses were awaiting them. With 
unerring instinct Jefferson Hope picked his way among 
the great bowlders and along the bed of a dried-up water- 
course, until he came to the retired corner, screened with 
rocks, where the faithful animals had been picketed. The 
girl was placed upon the mule and old Ferrier upon one 
of the horses, with his money-bag, while Jefferson Hope 
led the other along the precipitous and dangerous paths. 

It was a bewildering route for any one who was not 
accustomed to face Nature in her wildest moods, On the 
one side a great crag towered up a thousand feet or more, 
black, stern, and menacing, with long basaltic columns upon 
his rugged surface like the ribs of some petrified mon- 
ster. On the other hand, a wild chaos of bowlders and 
debris made all advance impossible. Between the two 
ran the irregular track, so narrow in places that they had 
to travel in Indian file, and so rough that only practiced 
riders could have traversed it at all. Yet, in spite of all 
dangers and difficulties, the hearts of the fugitives were 
light within them, for every step increased the distance 
between them and the terrible despotism from which they 
were flying. 

They soon had a proof, however, that they were still 
within the jurisdiction of the Saints. They had reached 
the very wildest and most desolate portion of the pass, 
when the girl gave a startled cry and pointed upward. 
On a rock which overlooked the track, showing out dark 
and plain against the sky, there stood a solitary sentinel. 
He saw them as soon as they perceived him, and his mili- 
tary challenge of “Who goes there?” rang through the 
silent ravine. 

“Travelers for Nevada,” said Jefferson Hope, with his 
hand upon the rifle which hung by his saddle. 

They could see the lonely watcher fingering his gun, 
and peering down at them as if dissatisfied at their reply. 

“By whose permission?” he asked. 

“The Holy Four,” answered Ferrier. His Mormon ex- 


A STUDY IN SCARLET 97 


periences had taught him that that was the highest au- 
thority to which he could refer. 

‘Nine to seven,” cried the sentinel. 

“Seven to five,” returned Jefferson Hope promptly, re- 
membering the countersign which he had heard in the 
garden. 

“Pass, and the Lord go with you,” said the voice from 
above. 

Beyond this post the path broadened out, and the horses 
were able to break into a trot. Looking back, they could 
see the solitary watcher leaning upon his gun, and knew 
that they had passed the outlying post of the Chosen 
People, and that freedom lay before them. 


CHAPTER V 


THE AVENGING ANGELS 
\ 

Att night long their course lay through intricate defiles 
and over irregular and rock-strewn paths. More than 
once they lost their way, but Hope’s intimate knowledge 
of the mountains enabled them to regain the track once 
more. When morning broke a scene of marvelous though 
savage beauty lay before them. In every direction the 
great snow-capped peaks hemmed them in, peeping over 
one another’s shoulders to the far horizon. So steep were 
the rocky banks on either side of them that the larch and 
the pine seemed to be suspended over their heads, and to 
need only a gust of wind to come hurtling down upon 
them. Nor was the fear entirely an illusion, for the 
barren valley was thickly strewn with trees and bowlders 
which had fallen in a similar manner. Even as they 
passed a great rock came thundering down with a hoarse 
rattle which woke the echoes in the silent gorges, and 
startled the weary horses into a gallop. 

As the sun rose slowly above the eastern horizon the 
caps of the great mountains lighted up one after the 
other, like lamps at a festival, until they were all ruddy 
and glowing. The magnificent spectacle cheered the 
hearts of the three fugitives and gave them fresh energy. 


98 A STUDY IN SCARLET 


At a wild torrent which swept out of a ravine they called 
a halt and watered their horses, while they partook of a 
hasty breakfast. Lucy and her father would fain have 
rested longer, but Jefferson Hope was inexorable. 

“They will be upon our track by this time,” he said. 
“Everything depends upon our speed. Once safe in Car- 
son, we may rest for the remainder of our lives.” 

During the whole of that day they struggled on through 
the defiles, and by evening they calculated that they were 
over thirty miles from their enemies. At night-time 
they chose the base of a beetling crag, where the rocks 
offered some protection from the chill wind, and there, 
huddled together for warmth, they enjoyed a few hours’ 
sleep. Before daybreak, however, they were up and on 
their way once more. They had seen no signs of any pur- 
suers, and Jefferson Hope began to think that they were 
fairly out of the reach of the terrible organization whose 
enmity they had incurred. He little knew how far that 
iron grasp could reach, or how soon it was to close upon 
them and crush them. 

About the middle of the second day of their flight their 
scanty store of provisions began to run out. This gave 
the hunter little uneasiness, for there was game to be had 
among the mountains, and he had frequently before had 
to depend upon, his rifle for the needs of life. Choosing 
a sheltered nook he piled together a few dry branches 
and made a blazing fire, at which his companions might 
warm themselves, for they were now nearly five thousand 
feet above the sea-level, and the air was bitter and keen. 
Having tethered the horses and bid Lucy adieu, he threw 
his gun over his shoulder and set out in search of what- 
ever chance might throw in his way. Looking back, he 
saw the old man and the young girl crouching over the 
blazing fire, while the three animals stood motionless in 
the background. Then the intervening rocks hid them 
from his view. 

He walked for a couple of miles through one ravine 
after another without success, though from the marks 
upon the bark of the trees and other indications he 
judged that there were numerous bears in the vicinity. 


A STUDY IN SCARLET 99 


At last, after two or three hours’ fruitless search, he was 

thinking of turning back in despair, when, casting his 
eyes upward, he saw a sight which sent a thrill of pleasure 
through his heart. On the edge of a jutting pinnacle, 
three or four hundred feet above him, there stood a crea- 
ture somewhat resembling a sheep in appearance, but 
- armed with a pair of gigantic horns. The big-horn— 
for so it is called—was acting, probably, as a guardian 
over a flock which were invisible to the hunter; but for- 
tunately it was heading in the opposite direction, and had 
not perceived him. Lying on his back, he rested his 
rifle on a rock and took a long and steady aim before 
drawing the trigger. The animal sprang into the air, tot- 
tered for a moment upon the edge of the precipice, and 
then came crashing down into the valley beneath. 

The creature was too unwieldy to lift, so the hunter 
contented himself with cutting away one haunch and part 
of the flank. With this trophy over his shoulder, he 
hastened to retrace his steps, for the evening was already 
drawing in. He had hardly started, however, before he 
realized the difficulty which faced him. In his eagerness 
he had wandered far past the ravines which were known 
to him, and it was no easy matter to pick out the path 
which he had taken. The valley in which he found him- 
self divided and subdivided into many gorges, which 
were so like one another that it was impossible to dis- 
tinguish one from the other. He followed one for a mile 
or more until he came to a mountain torrent which he 
was sure that he had never seen before. Convinced that 
he had taken the wrong turn, he tried another, but with 
the same result. Night was coming on rapidly, and it 
was almost dark before he at last found himself in a 
defile which was familiar to him. [Even then it was no 
easy matter to keep to the right track, for the moon had 
not yet risen and the high cliffs on either side made the 
obscurity more profound. Weighed down with his bur- 
den, and weary from his exertions, he stumbled along, 
keeping up his heart by the reflection that every step 
brought him nearer to Lucy, and that he carried with him 


100 A STUDY IN SCARLET 


enough to insure them food for the remainder of the 
journey. 

He had now come to the mouth of the very defile in 
which he had left them. Even in the darkness he could 
recognize the outlines of the cliffs which bounded it. 
They must, he reflected, be awaiting him anxiously, for 
he had been absent nearly five hours. In the gladness 
of his heart he put his hands to his mouth and made the 
glen re-echo to a loud halloo as a signal that he was 
coming. He paused and listened for an answer. None 
came save his own cry, which clattered up the dreary, 
silent ravines, and was borne back to his ears in countless 
repetitions. Again he shouted, even louder than before, 
and again no whisper came back from the friends whom 
he had left such a short time ago. A vague, nameless 
dread came over him, and he hurried onward frantically, 
dropping the precious food in his agitation. 

When he turned the corner he came in full sight of the 
spot where the fire had been lighted. There was still a 
glowing pile of wood-ashes there, but it had evidently 
not been tended since his departure. The same dead si- 
lence still reigned all round. With his fears all changed 
to convictions, he hurried on. There was no living crea- 
ture near the remains of the fire ; animals, man, maiden, all 
were gone. It was only too clear that some sudden and 
terrible disaster had occurred during his absence—a dis- 
aster which had embraced them all and yet had left no 
traces behind it. 

Bewildered and stunned by this blow, Jefferson Hope 
felt his head spin round, and had to lean upon his rifle 
to save himself from falling. He was essentially a man 
of action, however, and speedily recovered from his tem- 
porary impotence. Seizing a half-consumed piece of 
wood from the smoldering fire he blew it into a flame, 
and proceeded with its help to examine the little camp. 
The ground was all stamped down by the feet of horses, 
showing that a large party of mounted men had over- 
taken the fugitives, and the direction of their tracks 
proved that they had afterward turned back to Salt Lake 
City. Had they carried back both of his companions 


? 


A STUDY IN SCARLET 101 


with them? Jefferson Hope had almost persuaded him- 
self that they must have done so, when his eye fell upon 
an object which made every nerve of his body tingle 
within him. A little way on one side of the camp was 
a low-lying heap of reddish soil, which had assuredly 
not been there before. There was no mistaking it for 
anything but a newly dug grave. As the young hunter 
approached it he perceived that a stick had been planted 
on it, with a sheet of paper stuck in the cleft fork of it. 
The inscription on the paper was brief, but to the point: 


JOHN FERRIER, 
FORMERLY OF SALT LAKE CITY 
Died August 4, 1860. 


The sturdy old man, whom he had left so short a time 
before, was gone, then, and this was all his epitaph. 
Jefferson Hope looked wildly round to see if there was a 
second grave, but there was no sign of one. Lucy had 
been carried back by their terrible pursuers to fullfil 
her original destiny, by becoming one of the harem of 
the elder’s son. As the young fellow realized the cer- 
tainty of her fate and his own powerlessness to prevent 
it, he wished that he, too, was lying with the old farmer 
in his last silent resting-place. 

Again, however, his active spirit shook off the lethargy 
which springs from despair. If there was nothing else 
left to him he could at least devote his life to revenge. 
With indomitable patience and perseverance, Jefferson 
Hope possessed also a power of sustained vindictiveness 
which he may have learned from the Indians among 
whom he had lived. As he stood by the desolate fire he 
felt that the only one thing which could assuage his grief 
would be a thorough and complete retribution brought by 
his own hand upon his enemies. His strong will and un- 
tiring energy should, he determined, be devoted to that one 
end. With a grim, white face, he retraced his steps to 
where he had dropped the food, and, having stirred up 
the smoldering fire, he cooked enough to last him for a 
few days. This he made up into a bundle, and, tired as he 


102 A STUDY IN SCARLET 


was, he set himself to walk back through the mountains 
upon the track of the Avenging Angels. 

For five days he toiled, footsore and weary, through 
the defiles which he had already traversed on horseback. 
At night he flung himself down among the rocks and 
snatched a few hours of sleep; but before daybreak 
he was always well on his way. On the sixth day he 
reached the Eagle Ravine, from which they had com- 
menced their ill-fated flight. Thence he could look down 
upon the home of the Saints. Worn and exhausted, he 
leaned upon his rifle and shook his gaunt hand fiercely at 
the silent, widespread city beneath him. As he looked 
at it he observed that there were flags in some of the 
principal streets, and other signs of festivity. He was 
still speculating as to what this might mean when he 
heard the clatter of a horse’s hoofs and saw-a mounted 
man riding toward him. As he approached he recognized 
him as a Mormon named Cowper, to whom he had ren- 
dered services at different times. He therefore accosted 
him when he got up to him, with the object of finding 
out what Lucy Ferrier’s fate had been. 

“T am Jefferson Hope,” he said. “You remember me?” 

The Mormon looked at him with undisguised aston- 
ishment. Indeed, it was difficult to recognize in this 
tattered, unkempt wanderer, with ghastly white face and 
ferce, wild eyes, the spruce young hunter of former days. 
Having, however, at last satisfied himself as to his iden- 
tity, the man’s surprise changed to consternation. 

“You are mad to come here,” he cried. “It is as much 
as my own life is worth to be seen talking with you. 
There is a warrant against you from the Holy Four for 
assisting the Ferriers away.” 

“TI don’t fear them or their warrant,’ Hope said, 
earnestly. “You must know something of this matter, 
Cowper. I conjure you by everything you hold dear to 
answer a few questions. We have always been friends. 
For God’s sake, don’t refuse to answer me.” 

“What is it?” the Mormon asked, uneasily. “Be quick; 
the very rocks have ears and the trees eyes!” 

“What has become of Lucy Ferrier ?” 


A STUDY IN SCARLET 103 


“She was married yesterday to young Drebber. Hold 
up, man! hold up! you have no life left in you!” 

“Don’t mind me,” said Hope, faintly. He was white 
to the very lips, and had sunk down on the stone against 
which he had been leaning. “Married, you say?” 

“Married yesterday—that’s what those flags are for on 
the Endowment House. There was some words between 
young Drebber and young Stangeron a to which was to 
have her. They’d both been in the party that followed 
them, and Stangerson had shot her father, which seemed 
to give him the best claim; but when they argued it out 
in council Drebber’s party was the stronger, so the 
prophet gave her over to him. No one won’t have her 
very long, though, for I saw death in her face yester- 
day. She is more like a ghost than a woman. Are you 
off, then?” 

“Yes, I’m off,” said Jefferson Hope, who had risen 
from his seat. 

His face might have been chiseled out of marble, so 
hard and so set was its expression, while his eyes glowed 
with a baleful light. 

“Where are you going?” 

“Never mind,’ he answered; and, slinging his weapon 
on his shoulder, strode off down the gorge and so away 
into the heart of the mountains, to the haunts of the 
wild beasts. Among them all there was none so fierce 
and so dangerous as himself. 

The prediction of the Mormon was only too well ful- 
filled. Whether it was the terrible death of her father 
or the effects of the hateful marriage into which she had 
been forced, poor Lucy never held up her head again, 
but pined away and died within a month. Her sottish 
husband, who had married her principally for the sake of 
John Ferrier’s property, did not affect any great grief 
at his bereavement; but his other wives mourned over her, 
and sat up with her the night before the burial, as is the 
Mormon custom. They were grouped round the bier in 
the early hours of the morning, when, to their inex- 
pressible fear and astonishment, the door was flung open, 
and a savage-looking, weather-beaten man in tattered 


104 A STUDY IN SCARLET 


garments strode into the room. Without a glance or a 
word to the cowering women he walked up to the white, 
silent figure which had once contained the pure soul of 
Lucy Ferrier. Stooping over her, he pressed his lips 
reverently to her cold forehead, and then, snatching up 
her hand, he took the wedding-ring from her finger. 

“She shall not be buried in that,” he cried, with a 
fierce snarl, and before an alarm could be raised sprang 
down the stairs and was gone. So strange and so brief 
was the episode that the watchers might have found it 
hard to believe it themselves or persuade other people 
of it, had it not been for the undeniable fact that the 
circlet of gold which marked her as having been a bride 
had disappeared. | 

For some months Jefferson Hope lingered among the 
mountains, leading a strange, wild life, and nursing 
in his heart the fierce desire for vengeance which pos- 
sessed him. ‘Tales were told in the city of the weird 
figure which was seen prowling about the suburbs, and 
which haunted the lonely mountain gorges. Once a bullet 
whistled through Stangerson’s window and flattened it- 
self upon the wall within a foot of him. On another occa- 
sion, as Drebber passed under a cliff, a great bowlder 
crashed down on him, and he only escaped a terrible 
death by throwing himself upon his face. The two young 
Mormons were not long in discovering the reason of 
these attempts upon their lives, and led repeated expedi- 
tions into the mountains in the hope of capturing or kill- 
ing their enemy, but always without success. Then they 
adopted the precaution of never going out alone or after 
nightfall, and of having their houses guarded. After a 
time they were able to relax these measures, for nothing 
was either heard or seen of their opponent, and they 
hoped that time had cooled his vindictiveness. , 

Far from doing so, it had, if anything, augmented it. 
The hunter’s mind was of a hard, unyielding nature, and 
the predominant idea of revenge had taken such com- ~ 
plete possession of it that there was no room for any © 
other emotion. He was, however, above all things prac- — 
tical. He soon realized that even his iron constitution — 


A STUDY IN SCARLET 105 


could not stand the incessant strain which he was put- 
ting upon it. Exposure and want of wholesome food 
were wearing him out. If he died like a dog among the 
mountains, what was to become of his revenge then? 
And yet such a death was sure to overtake him if he per- 
sisted. He felt that that was to play his enemy’s game, 
so he reluctantly returned to the old Nevada mines, there 
to recruit his health, and to amass money enough to allow 
him to pursue his object without privation. 

His intention had been to be absent a year at the most, 
but a combination of unforeseen circumstances preyented 
his leaving the mines for nearly five. At the end of that 
time, however, his memory of his wrongs and his cray- 
ings for revenge were quite as keen as on that memorable 
night when he had stood by John Ferrier’s grave. Dis- 
guised, and under an assumed name, he returned to Salt 
Lake City, careless what became of his own life as long as 
he obtained what he knew to be justice. There he found 
evil tidings awaited him. There had been a schism 
among the Chosen People a few months before, some 
of the younger members of the church having rebelled 
against the authority of the elders, and the result had 
been the secession of a certain number of the malcon- 
tents, who had left Utah and become Gentiles. Among 
these had been Drebber and Stangerson, and no one knew 
whither they had gone. Rumor reported that Drebber 
had managed to convert a large part of his property into 
money, and that he had departed a wealthy man, while 
his companion, Stangerson, was comparatively poor. 
There was no clue at all, however, as to their where- 
abouts. 

Many a man, however vindictive, would have aban- 
doned all thought of revenge in the face of such a diffi- 
culty, but Jefferson Hope never faltered for a moment. 
With the small competence he possessed, eked out by 
such employment as he could pick up, he traveled from 
town to town through the United States in quest of his 
enemies. Year passed into year, his black hair turned 
to grizzled, but still he wandered on, a human _ blood- 
hound, with his mind wholly set upon the one object to 


106 A STUDY IN SCARLET 


which he had devoted his life. At last his perseverance 
was rewarded. It was but a glance of a face in a win- 
dow, but that one glance told him that Cleveland, in Ohio, 
possessed the men whom he was in pursuit of. He re- 
turned to his miserable lodgings with his plan of vengeance 
all arranged. It chanced, however, that Drebber, looking 
from his window, had recognized the vagrant in the street, 
and had read murder in his eyes. He hurried before a 
justice of the peace, accompanied by Stangerson, who had 
become his private secretary, and represented to him 
that they were in danger of their lives from the jealousy 
and hatred of an old rival. 

That evening Jefferson Hope was taken into custody, 
and, not being able to find sureties, was detained for 
some weeks. When at last he was liberated it was only 
to find that Drebber’s house was deserted, and that he 
and his secretary had departed for Europe. 

Again the avenger had been foiled, and again his con- 
centrated hatred urged him to continue the pursuit. 
Funds were wanting, however, and for some time he 
had to return to work, saving every dollar for his ap- 
proaching journey. At last, having collected enough 
to keep life in him, he departed for Europe, and tracked 
his enemies from city to city, working his way in any 
menial capacity, but never overtaking the fugitives. 
When he reached St. Petersburg they had departed for 
Paris; and when he followed them there he learned that 
they had just set off for Copenhagen. At the Danish 
capital he was again a few days late, for they had jour- 
neyed on to London, where he at last succeeded in running 
them to earth. As to what occurred there, we cannot do 
better than quote the old hunter’s own account, as duly 
recorded in Dr. Watson’s journal, to which we are al- 
ready under such obligations. 


A STUDY IN SCARLET 107 


CHAPTER VI 


A CONTINUATION OF THE REMINISCENCES OF JOHN H. 
WATSON, M. D. 


Our prisoner’s furious resistance did not apparently 
indicate any ferocity in his disposition toward ourselves, 
for, on finding himself powerless, he smiled in an affable 
manner, and expressed his hopes that he had not hurt 
any of us in the scuffle. 

“I guess you’re going to take me to the police sta- 
tion,” he remarked to Sherlock Holmes. ‘My cab’s at 
the door; if you'll loose my legs I’ll walk down to it. 
I’m not so light to lift as I used to be.” 

Gregson and Lestrade exchanged glances as if they 
thought this proposition rather a bold one; but Holmes 
at once took the prisoner at his word, and loosened the 
towel which he had bound round his ankles. He rose 
and stretched his legs, as though to assure himself that 
they were free once more. I remember that I thought 
to myself, as I eyed him, that I had seldom seen a more 
powerfully built man; and his dark, sunburned face 
bore an expression of determination and energy which 
was as formidable as his personal strength. 

“Tf there’s a vacant place for a chief of the police, I 
reckon you are the man for it,” he said, gazing with 
undisguised admiration at my fellow-lodger. “The way 
you kept on my trail was a caution.” 

“You had better come with me,” said Holmes to the 
two detectives. 

“TI can drive you,’ said Lestrade. 

“Good! and Gregson can come inside with me. You 
too, doctor; you have taken an interest in the case, and 
may as well stick to us.” 

I assented gladly, and we all descended together. Our 
prisoner made no attempt at escape, but stepped calmly 
into the cab which had been his, and we followed him. 
Lestrade mounted the box, whipped up the horse, and 
brought us in a very short time to our destination. We 


108 A STUDY IN SCARLET 


were ushered into a small chamber, where a police in- 
spector noted down our prisoner’s name and the names of 
the men with whose murder he had been charged. The 
official was a white-faced, unemotional man, who went 
through his duties in a dull, mechanical way. “The pris- 
oner will be put before the magistrates in the course of the 
week,” he said; “in the meantime, Mr. Jefferson Hope, 
have you anything that you wish to say? I must warn 
you that your words will be taken down and may be used 
against you.” 

“T’ve a good deal to say,” our prisoner said, slowly. 
“T want to tell you gentlemen all about it.” 

“Hadn’t you better reserve that for your trial?” asked 
the inspector. 3 

“T may never be tried,” he answered. “You needn’t 
look startled. It isn’t suicide I am porns of. Are 
you a doctor?” 

He turned his fierce, dark eyes upon me as he asked 
this last question. 

“Yes, I am,” I answered. 

“Then put your hand here,’ he said, with a smile, 
motioning with his manacled wrists toward his chest. 

I did so, and became at once conscious of an extraor- 
dinary throbbing and commotion which was going on in- > 
side. The walls of his chest seemed to thrill and quiver 
as a frail building would do inside when some powerful 
engine was at work. In the silence of the room I could 
hear a dull hummmg and buzzing noise which proceeded 
from the same source. 

“Why,” I cried, “you have aortic aneurism!” 

“That’s what they call it,’ he said, placidly. “I went 
to a doctor last week about it, and he told me that it was 
bound to burst before many days passed. It has been 
getting worse for years. I got it from over-exposure and 
underfeeding among the Salt Lake mountains. Tve done 
my work now, and I don’t care how soon I go, but I 
should like to leave some account of the business behind 
me. I don’t want to be remembered as a common cut- 
throat.” 

The inspector and the two detectives had a hurried 


A STUDY IN SCARLET 109 


discussion as to the advisability of allowing him to tell 
his story. 

“Do you consider, doctor, that there is immediate dan- 
ger?’ the former asked. 

“Most certainly there is,’ I answered. 

“In that case it is clearly our duty, in the interests of 
justice, to take his statements,” said the inspector. “You 
are at liberty, sir, to give your account, which I again 
warn you will be taken down.” 

“T’ll sit down, with your leave,” the prisoner said, suit- 
ing the action to the word. “This aneurism of mine makes 
me easily tired, and the tussle we had half an hour ago 
has not mended matters. I’m on the brink of the grave, 
and I am not likely to lie to you. Every word I say is 
the absolute truth, and how you use it is a matter of no 
consequence to me.” 

With these words Jefferson Hope leaned back in his 
chair and began the following remarkable statement. He 
spoke in a calm and methodical manner, as though the 
events which he narrated were commonplace enough. I 
can vouch for the accuracy of the subjoined account, for I 
have had access to Lestrade’s note book, in which the 
prisoner’s words were taken down exactly as they were 
uttered. 

“It doesn’t matter much to you why I hated these men,” 
he said; “it’s enough that they were guilty of the death of 
two human beings—a father and a daughter—and they 
had, therefore, forfeited their own lives. After the lapse 
of time that has passed since their crime, it was impossible 
for me to secure a conviction against them in any court. 
I knew of their guilt, though, and I determined that I 
should be judge, jury, and executioner all rolled into 
one. You'd have done the same, if you have any man- 
hood in you, if you had been in my place. 

“That girl that I spoke of was to have married me 
twenty years ago. She was forced into marrying that 
same Drebber, and broke her heart over it. I took the 
marriage ring from her dead finger, and I vowed that 
his dying eyes should rest upon that very ring, and that 
his last thought should be of the crime for which he was 


110 A STUDY IN SCARLET 


punished. I have carried it about with me, and have fol- 
lowed him and his accomplice over two continents until 
I caught them. They thought to tire me out, but they 
could not do it. If I die to-morrow, as is likely enough, 
I die knowing that my work in this world is done, and 
well done. They have perished, and by my hand. There 
is nothing left for me to hope for or to desire. 

“They were rich and I was poor, so that it was no easy 
matter for me to follow them. When I got to London 
my pocket was about empty, and I found that I must turn 
my hand to something for my living. Driving and riding 
are as natural to me as walking, so I applied at a cab 
owner’s office and soon got employment. I was to bring 
a certain sum a week to the owner, and whatever was over 
that 1 might keep for myself. There was seldom much 
over, but I managed to scrape along somehow. The 
hardest job was to learn my way about, for I reckon 
that of all the mazes that were ever contrived, this city — 
is the most confusing. J had a map beside me, though, 
and when once I had spotted the principal hotels and 
stations I got on pretty well. 

“It was some time before I found out where my two 
gentlemen were living; but I inquired and inquired until 
at last I dropped across them. They were at a board- 
ing house at Camberwell, over on the other side of the’ 
river. When once I found them out I knew that I had 
them at my mercy. I had grown my beard, and there 
was no chance of their recognizing me. I would dog them 
and follow them until I saw my opportunity. I was 
determined that they should not escape me again. 

“They were very near doing it, for all that. Go where 
they would about London, I was always at their heels. 
Sometimes I followed them on my cab, and sometimes 
on foot, but the former was the best, for then they could 
not get away from me. It was only early in the morn- 
ing or late at night that I could earn anything, so that 
I began to get behindhand with my employer. I did not 
mind that, however, as long as I could lay my hand upon © 
the men I wanted. | 

“They were very cunning, though. They must have — 


A STUDY IN SCARLET il 


thought that there was some chance of their being fol- 
lowed, for they would never go out alone, and never 
after nightfall. During two weeks I drove behind them 
every day, and never once saw them separate. Drebber 
himself was drunk half the time, but Stangerson was 
not to be caught napping. I watched them late and 
early, but never saw the ghost of a chance; but I was 
not discouraged, for something told me that the hour 
had almost come. My only fear was that this thing in 
my chest might burst a little too soon and leave my work 
undone. 

“At last, one evening, I was driving up and down 
Torquay Terrace, as the street was called in which they 
boarded, when I saw a cab drive up to their door. Pres- 
ently some luggage was brought out, and after a time 
Drebber and Stangerson followed it and drove off. J 
whipped up my horse and kept within sight of them, 
feeling ill at ease, for I feared that they were going to 
shift their quarters. At Euston Station they got out, and 
I left a boy to hold my horse and followed them on to 
the platform. I heard them ask for the Liverpool train, 
and the guard answer that one had just gone, and there 
would not be another for some hours. Stangerson 
seemed to be put out at that, but Drebber was rather 
pleased than otherwise. I got so close to them in the 
bustle that I could hear every word that passed between 
them. Drebber said that he had a little business of his 
own to do, and that if the other would wait for him he 
would soon rejoin him. His companion remonstrated with 
him, and reminded him that they had resolved to stick 
together. Drebber answered that the matter was a deli- 
cate one, and that he must go alone. I could not catch 
what Stangerson said to that, but the other burst out 
swearing and reminded him that he was nothing more 
than his paid servant, and that he must not presume to 
dictate to him. On that the secretary gave it up as a 
bad job, and simply bargained with him that if he missed 
the last train he should rejoin him at Halliday’s Private 
Hotel; to which Drebber answered that he would be back 


112 A STUDY IN SCARLET 


on the platform. before eleven, and made his way out of 
the station. ; 

“The moment for which I had waited so long had at last 
come. I had my enemies within my power. Together 
they could protect each other, but singly they were at my 
mercy. I did not act, however, with undue precipitation. 
‘My plans were already formed. There is no satisfaction 
in vengeance unless the offender has time to realize who 
it is that strikes him, and why retribution had come upon 
him. I had my plans arranged by which I should have the 
opportunity of making the man who wronged me under- 
stand that his old sin had found him out. It chanced 
that some days before a gentleman who had been engaged 
in looking over some houses in the Brixton Road had 
dropped the key of one of them in my carriage. It 
was claimed that same evening and returned; but in the 
interval I had taken a molding of it, and had a dupli- 
cate constructed. By means of this I had access to at 
least one spot in this great city where I could rely upon 
being free from interruption. How to get Drebber to 
that house was the difficult problem which I now had 
to solve. | 

“He walked down the road and went into one or two 
liquor shops, staying for nearly half an hour in the last 
of them. When he’ came out he staggered in his walk, 
and was evidently pretty well on. There was a hansom 
just in front of me, and he hailed it. I followed it so 
close that the nose of my horse was within a yard of 
his driver the whole way. We rattled across Waterloo 
Bridge and through miles of streets, until, to my aston- 
ishment, we found ourselves back in the terrace in which 
he had boarded. I could not imagine what his inten- 
tion was in returning there, but I went on and pulled up — 
my cab a hundred yards or so from the house. He en- 
tered it and his hansom drove away. Give me a glass of 
water, if you please. My mouth gets dry with the talk- 
ing.” 

I handed him the glass, and he drank it down. 

“That’s better,” he said. “Well, I waited for a quarter 
of an hour or more, when suddenly there came a noise 


A STUDY IN SCARLET 113 


like people struggling inside the house. Next moment 
the door was flung open and two men appeared, one of 
whom was Drebber, and the other was a young chap 
whom I had never seen before. This fellow had Drebber 
by the collar, and when they came to the head of the steps 
he gave him a shove and a kick which sent him half 
across the road. ‘You hound!’ he cried, shaking his stick 
at him, ‘I’ll teach you to insult an honest girl!’ He was 
so hot that I think he would have thrashed Drebber with 
his cudgel only that the cur staggered away down the road 
as fast as his legs would carry him. He ran as far as the 
corner, and then, seeing my cab, he hailed me and jumped 
in. ‘Drive me to Halliday’s Private Hotel,’ said he. 

“When I had him fairly inside my cab my heart jumped 
so with joy that I feared lest at this last moment my 
aneurism might go wrong. I drove along slowly, weigh- 
ing in my own mind what it was best to do. I might take 
him right out into the country, and there in some deserted 
lane have my last interview with him. I had almost de- 
cided upon this, when he solved the problem for me. The 
craze for drink had seized him again, and he ordered me 
to pull up outside a gin palace. He went in, leaving word 
that I should wait for him. There he remained until 
closing time, and when he came out he was so far gone 
that I knew the game was in my own hands. 

“Don’t imagine that I intended to kill him in cold blood. 
It would only have been rigid justice if I had done so, but 
I could not bring myself to do it. I had long determined 
that he should have a show for his life if he chose to take 
advantage of it. Among the many billets which I have 
filled in America during my wandering life, I was once 
a janitor and sweeper-out of the laboratory at York 
College. One day the professor was lecturing on poisons, 
and he showed his students some alkaloid, as he called it, 
which he had extracted from some South American 
arrow poison, and which was so powerful that the least 
grain meant instant death. I spotted the bottle in which 
this preparation was kept, and when they were all gone 
I helped myself to a little of it. I was a fairly good dis- 
penser, so I worked this alkaloid into small, soluble pills, 


114 A STUDY IN SCARLET 


and each pill I put in a box with a similar pill made with- 
out poison. I determined at the time that, when I had 
my chance, my gentlemen should each have a draw out of 
one of these boxes, while I eat the pill that remained. 
It would be quite as deadly, and a good deal less noisy 
than firing across a handkerchief. From that day I had 
always my pill boxes about with me, and the time had 
now come when I was to use them. 

“It was nearer one than twelve, and a wild, bleak 
night, blowing hard and raining in torrents. Dismal 
as it was outside, I was glad within—so glad that I could 
have shouted out from pure exultation. If any of you 
gentlemen have ever pined for a thing and longed for it 
during twenty long years, and then suddenly found it 
within your reach, you would understand my feelings. 
I lighted a cigar and puffed at it to steady my nerves, but 
my hands were trembling, and my temples throbbing with 
excitement. As I drove I could see old John Ferrier and 
sweet Lucy looking at me out of the darkness and smiling 
at me, just as plain as I see you all in this room. All the 
way they were ahead of me, one on each side of the horse, 
until I pulled up at the house in the Brixton Road. 

“There was not a soul to be seen, nor a sound to be 
heard, except the dripping of the rain. When I looked 
in at the window I found Drebber all huddled together 
in a drunken sleep. I shook him by the arm: ‘It’s time to 
go out,’ I said. 

““All right, cabby,’ said he. 

“T suppose he thought we had come to the hotel that 
he had mentioned, for he got out without another word 
and followed me down the garden. I had to walk be- 
side him to keep him steady, for he was still a little top- 
heavy. When we came to the door I opened it and led 
him into the front room. I give you my word that, all 
the way, the father and daughter were walking in front 
of us. 

“It's infernally dark,’ said he, stamping about. 

“*We'll soon have a light,’ I said, striking a match 
and putting it to a wax candle which I had brought with 


A STUDY IN SCARLET 115 


me. “Now, Enoch Drebber,’ I continued, turning to him 
and holding the light to my own face, ‘Who am I?” 

“He gazed at me with bleared, drunken eyes for a 
moment, and then I saw a horror spring up in them and 
convulse his whole features, which showed me that he 
knew me. He staggered back with a livid face, and I 
saw the perspiration break out upon his brow, while his 
teeth chattered. At the sight I leaned my back against 
the door and laughed loud and long. I had always known 
that vengeance would be sweet, but had never hoped for 
the contentment of soul which now possessed me. 

“*You dog!’ I said, ‘I have hunted you from Salt Lake 
City to St. Petersburg, and you have always escaped me. 
Now at last your wanderings have come to an end, for 
either you or I shall never see to-morrow’s sun rise.’ 
He shrunk still further away as I spoke, and I could see 
on his face that he thought I was mad. So I was, for 
the time. The pulses in my temples beat like sledge- 
hammers, and I believe I would have had a fit of some 
sort if the blood had not gushed from my nose and re- 
lieved me. 

““What do you think of Lucy Ferrier now? I cried, 
locking the door and shaking the key in his face. ‘Punish- 
ment has been slow in coming, but it has overtaken you 
at last.’ I saw his coward lips tremble as I spoke. He 
would have begged for his life, but he knew well that 
it was useless. 

“Would you murder me?’ he stammered. 

“*There is no murder,’ I answered. ‘Who talks of 
murdering a mad dog? What mercy had you upon my 
poor darling when you dragged her from her slaughtered 
father and bore her away *to your accursed and shame- 
less harem?’ 

“Tt was not I who killed her father,’ he cried. 

““But it was you who broke her innocent heart,’ I 
shrieked, thrusting the box before him. ‘Let the high 
God judge between us. Choose and eat. There is death 
in one and life in the other. I shall take what you leave. 
Let us see if there is justice upon the earth, or if we 
are ruled by chance.’ 


116 A STUDY IN SCARLET 


“He cowered away with wild cries and prayers for 
mercy, but I drew my knife and held it to his throat 
until he had obeyed me. Then I swallowed the other, 
and we stood facing each other in silence for a minute 
or more, waiting to see which was to live and which 
was to die. Shall I ever forget the look which came 
over his face when the first warning pangs told him 
that the poison was in his system? I laughed as I saw 
it, and held Lucy’s marriage-ring in front of his eyes. 
It was but for a moment, for the action of the alkaloid 
is rapid. A spasm of pain contorted his features; he 
threw his hands out in front of him, staggered, and then, 
with a hoarse cry, fell heavily upon the floor. I turned 
him over with my foot and placed. my hand upon his 
heart. There was no movement. He was dead! 

“The blood had been streaming from my nose, but I 
had taken no notice of it. I don’t know what it was 
that put it into my head to write upon the wall with it. 
Perhaps it was some mischievous idea of setting the police 
upon a wrong track, for I felt light-hearted and cheerful. 
I remembered a German being found in New York with 
“Rache’ written up above him, and it was argued at the 
time in the newspapers that the secret societies must have 
done it. I guessed that what puzzled the New Yorkers 
would puzzle the Londoners, so I dipped my finger in 
my own blood and printed it on a convenient place on 
the wall. Then I walked down to my cab and found that 
there was nobody about, and that the night was still very 
wild. I had driven some distance, when I put my hand 
into the pocket in which I usually kept Lucy’s ring, and 
found that it was not there. I was thunder-struck at 
this, for it was the only memento that I had of her. 
Thinking that I might have dropped it when I stooped 
overt Drebber’s body, I drove back, and leaving my cab 
in a side street, I went boldly up to the house—for I 
was ready to dare anything rather than lose the ring. 
When I arrived there I walked right into the arms of a 
police officer who was coming out, and only managed 
sing his suspicions by pretending to be hopelessly 
drunk. 


A STUDY IN SCARLET 117 


“That was how Enoch Drebber came to his end. All 
I had to do then was to do as much for Stangerson, 
and so pay off John Ferrier’s debt. I knew that he was 
staying at Halliday’s Private Hotel, and I hung about 
all day, but he never came out. I fancy that he suspected 
something when Drebber failed to put in an appearance. 
He was cunning, was Stangerson, and always on his 
guard. If he thought he could keep me off by staying 
in-doors he was very much mistaken. I soon found out 
which was the window of his bed-room, and early next 
morning I took advantage of some ladders which were 
lying in the lane behind the hotel, and so made my way 
into his room in the gray of the dawn. I woke him up, 
and told him that the hour had come when he was to 
answer for the life he had taken so long before. I de- 
scribed Drebber’s death to him, and I gave him the same 
choice of the poisoned pills. Instead of grasping at the 
chance of safety which that offered him, he sprang from 
his bed and flew at my throat. In self-defence I stabbed 
him to the heart. It would have been the same in any 
case, for Providence would never have allowed his guilty 
hand to pick out anything but the poison. 

“T have little more to say, and it’s as well, for I am 
about done up. I went on cabbing it for a day or so, 
intending to keep at it until I could save enough to take 
me back to America. I was standing in the yard when 
a ragged youngster asked if there was a cabby there 
called Jefferson Hope, and said that his cab was wanted 
by a gentleman at 221B Baker Street. I went round, 
suspecting no harm, and the next thing I knew this 
young man here had the bracelts on my wrists, and as 
neatly shackled as ever I was in my life. That’s the 
whole of my story, gentlemen. You may consider me 
to be a murderer, but I hold that I am just as much an 
officer of justice as you are.” 

So thrilling had the man’s narrative been, and his 
manner was so impressive, that we had sat silent and 
absorbed. Even the professional detectives, blase as 
they were in every detail of crime, appeared to be keenly 
interested in the man’s story. When he finished we sat 


118 A STUDY IN SCARLET 


for some minutes in a stillness which was only broken 
by the scratching of Lestrade’s pencil as he gave the 
finishing touches to his short-hand account. 

“There is only one point on which I should like a lit- 
tle more information,’”? Sherlock Holmes said at last. 
“Who was your accomplice who came for the ring which 
I advertised ?” 

The prisoner winked at my friend jocosely. 

“IT can tell my own secrets,’ he said, “but I don’t get 
other people into trouble. I saw your advertisement, 
and I thought it might be a plant, or it might be the ring 
I wanted. My friend volunteered to go and see. I think 
you'll own he did‘it smartly.” 

“Not a doubt of that,” said- Holmes, heartily. 

“Now, gentlemen,” the inspector remarked, gravely, 
“the forms of the law must be complied with. On 
Thursday the prisoner will be brought before the mag- 
istrates, and your attendance will be required. Until 
then I will be responsible for him.” 

He rang the bell as he spoke, and Jefferson Hope was 
led off by a couple of warders, while my friend and I 
made our way out of the station and took a cab back 
to Baker Street. 


CHAPTER VII 
THE CONCLUSION 


WE had all been warned to appear before the mag- 
istrates upon the Thursday; but when the Thursday came 
there was no occasion for our testimony. A _ higher 
Judge had taken the matter in hand, and Jefferson Hope 
had been summoned before a tribunal where strict justice 
would be meted out to him. On the very night after his 
capture the aneurism burst, and he was found in the 
morning stretched upon the floor of his cell, with a placid 
smile upon his face, as though he had been able in his 
dying moments to look back upon a useful life and on 
work well done. 

“Gregson and Lestrade will be wild about his death,” 


A STUDY IN SCARLET 119 


Holmes remarked, as we chatted over it next evening. 
“Where will their grand advertisement be now?” 

“I don’t see that they had very much to do with his 
capture,” I answered. 

“What you do in this world is a matter of no con- 
sequence,” returned my companion, bitterly. “The ques- 
tion is, what can you make people believe that you have 
done. Never mind,” he continued, more brightly, after 
a pause, “I would not have missed the investigation for 
anything. There has been no better case within my 
recollection. Simple as it was, there were several most 
instructive points about it.” 

“Simple!” I ejaculated. 

“Well, really, it can hardly be described as otherwise,” 
said Sherlock Holmes, smiling at my surprise. “The 
proof of its intrinsic simplicity is that without any help, 
save a few very ordinary deductions, I was able to lay my 
hand upon the criminal within three days.” 

“That is true,” said I. 

“T have already explained to you that what is out of 
the common is usually a guide rather than a hindrance. 
In solving a problem of this sort, the grand thing is to 
reason backward. That is a very useful accomplishment 
and a very easy one, but people do not practise it much. 
In the every-day affairs of life it is more useful to reason 
forward, and so the other comes to be neglected. There 
are fifty who can reason synthetically for one who can 
reason analytically.” 

“T confess,” said I, “that I do not quite follow you.” 

“T hardly expected that you would. Let me see if 
I can make it clear. Most people, if you describe a train 
of events to them, will tell you what the result would be. 
They can put those events together in their minds, and 
argue from them that something will come to pass. There 
are few people, however, who, if you told them a result, 
would be able to evolve from their own inner conscious- 
ness what the steps were which led up to that result. 
This power is what I mean when I talk of reasoning back- 
ward, or analytically.” 

“1 understand,” said I. 


120 A STUDY IN SCARLET bat 
| 

“Now, this was a case in which you were given the 
result, and had to end everything else for yourself. Now, 
let me endeavor to show you the different steps in my 
reasoning. To begin at the beginning. I approached 
the house, as you know, on foot, and with my mind 
entirely free from all impressions. I naturally began by 
examining the roadway, and there, as I have already ex- 
plained to you, I saw clearly the marks of a cab, which, 
I ascertained by inquiry, must have been there during 
the night. I satisfied myself that it was a cab, and not 
a private carriage, by the narrow gauge of the wheels. 
The ordinary London growler is considerably less wide 
than a gentleman’s brougham. 

“This was the first point gained. I then walked slowly 
down the garden path, which happened to be composed 
of a clay soil, peculiarly suitable for taking impressions. 
No doubt it appeared to you to be a mere trampled line 
of slush, but to my trained eyes every mark upon its sur- 
face had a meaning. There is no branch of detective 
science which is so important and so much neglected as 
the art of tracing footsteps. Happily, I have always laid 
great stress upon it, and much practice has made it 
second nature to me. I saw the heavy foot-marks of the 
constables, but I saw also the tracks of the two men who 
had first passed through the garden. It was easy to tell 
that they had been before the others, because in places 
their marks had been entirely obliterated by the others 
coming upon the top of them. In this way my second 
link was formed, which told me that the nocturnal visitors 
were two in number, one remarkable for his height 
(as I calculated from the length of his stride), and the 
other fashionably dressed, to judge from the small and 
elegant impression left by his boots. 

“On entering the house this last inference was con- 
firmed. My well-booted man lay before me. The tall 
one, then, had done the murder, if murder there was. 
There was no wound upon the dead man’s person, but 
the agitated expression upon his face assured me that he © 
had foreseen his fate before it came upon him. Men 
who die from heart disease or any sudden natural cause 


A STUDY IN SCARLET 121 


never by any chance exhibit agitation upon their features. 
Having sniffed the dead man’s lips, I detected a slightly 
sour smell, and I came to the conclusion that he had had 
poison forced upon him. Again, I argued that it had 
been forced upon him from the hatred and fear expressed 
upon his face. By the method of exclusion I had arrived 
at this result, for no other hypothesis would meet the 
facts. Do not imagine that it was a very unheard-of idea. 
The forcible administration of poison is by no means a 
new thing in criminal annals. The cases of Dolsky, in 
Odessa, and of Leturier, in Montpellier, will occur at 
once to any toxicologist. 

“And now came the great question as to the reason 
why. Robbery had not been the object of the murder, 
for nothing was taken. Was it politics, then, or was it a 
woman? That was the question which confronted me. 
I was inclined from the first to the latter supposition. 
Political assassins are only too glad to do their work 
and to fly. This murder had, on the contrary, been done 
most deliberately, and the perpetrator had left his tracks 
all over the room, showing that he had been there all the 
time. It must have been a private wrong, and not a 
political one, which called for such a methodical revenge. 
When the inscription was discovered upon the wall I was 
more inclined than ever to my opinion. The thing was 
too evidently a blind. When the ring was found, how- 
ever, it settled the question. Clearly the murderer had 
used it to remind his victim of some dead or absent 
woman. It was at this point that I asked Gregson 
whether he had inquired in his telegram to Cleveland 
as to any particular point in Mr. Drebber’s former career. 
He answered, you remember, in the negative. 

“I then proceeded to make a careful examination of 
the room, which confirmed me in my opinion as to the 
murderer’s height, and furnished me with the additional 
detail as to the Trichinopoly cigar and the length of his 
nails. I had already come to the conclusion, since there 
were no signs of a struggle, that the blood which covered 
the floor had burst from the murderer’s nose in his ex- 
citement. I could perceive that the track of blood coin- 


122 A STUDY IN SCARLET 


cided with the track of his feet. It is seldom that any 
man, unless he is very full-blooded, breaks out in this 
way through emotion, so I hazarded the opinion that the 
criminal was probably a robust and ruddy-faced man, 
Events proved that I had judged correctly. 

“Having left the house, I proceeded to do what Greg- 
son had neglected. I telegraphed to the head of the 
police at Cleveland, limiting my inquiry to the circum- 
stances connected with the marriage of Enoch Drebber. 
The answer was conclusive. It told me that Drebber 
had already applied for the protection of the law against 
an old rival in love,znamed Jefferson Hope, and that this 
same Hope was at present in Europe. I knew now that I 
held the clue to the mystery in my hand, and all that 
remained was to secure the murderer. 

“TI had already determined in my own mind that the 
man who had walked into the house with Drebber was 
none other than the man who had driven the cab. The 
marks in the road showed me that the horse had wan- 
dered on in a way which would have been impossible 
had there been any one in charge of it. Where, then, 
could the driver be, unless he were inside the house? 
Again, it is absurd to suppose that any man would carry 
out a deliberate crime under the very eyes, as it were, 
of a third person, who was sure to betray him. Lastly, 
supposing one man wished to dog another through Lon- 
don, what better means could he adopt than to turn cab 
driver? All these considerations led me to the irresistible 
conclusion that Jefferson Hope was to be found among 
the jarveys of the metropolis. 

“If he had been one there was no reason to believe that 
he had ceased to be. On the contrary, from his point 
of view, any sudden change would be likely to draw at- 
tention to himself. He would probably, for a time at 
least, continue to perform his duties. There was no 
reason to suppose that he was going under an assumed 
name. Why should he change his name in a country | 
where no one knew his original one? I therefore organ- 
ized my street-arab detective corps, and sent them syste- 
matically to every cab proprietor in London until they — 


A STUDY IN SCARLET 123 


ferreted out the man that I wanted. How well they 
succeeded, and how quickly I took advantage of it, are 
still fresh in your recollection. The murder of Stanger- 
son was an incident which was entirely unexpected, but 
which could hardly in any case have been prevented. 
Through it, as you know, I came into possession of the 
pills, the existence of which I had already surmised. 
You see, the whole thing is a chain of logical sequences 
without a break or flaw.” 

“It is wonderful!” I cried. “Your merits should be 
publicly recognized. You should publish an account of 
the case. If you won’t, I will for you.” 

“You may do what you like, doctor,” he answered. 
“See here!” he continued, handing a paper over to me; 
“Took at this!” 

It was the “Echo” for the day, and the paragraph to 
which he pointed was devoted to the case in question. 

“The public,’ it said, “have lost a sensational treat 
through the sudden death of the man Hope, who was 
suspected of the murder of Mr. Enoch Drebber and of 
Mr. Joseph Stangerson. The details of the case will 
probably never be known now, though we are informed 
upon good authority that the crime was the result of 
an old-standing and romantic feud, in which love and 
Mormonism bore a part. It seems that both the victims 
belonged, in their younger days, to the Latter-Day 
Saints, and Hope, the deceased prisoner, hails also from 
Salt Lake City. If the case has had no other effect, it 
at least brings out in the most striking manner the effici- 
ency of our detective police force, and will serve as a 
lesson to all foreigners that they will do wisely to settle 
their feuds at home, and not to carry them on to British 
soil. It is an open secret that the credit of this smart 
capture belongs entirely to the well-known Scotland Yard 
Officials, Messrs. Lestrade and Gregson. The man was 
apprehended, it appears, in the rooms of a certain Mr. 
Sherlock Holmes, who has himself, as an amateur, shown 
'some talent in the detective line, and who, with such 
‘instructors, may hope in time to attain to some degree 
of their skill. It is expected that a testimonial of some 
‘ ! 


124 A STUDY IN SCARLET 


sort will be presented to the two officers as a fitting rec- 
ognition of their services.” 

‘“Didn’t I tell you so when we started?” cried Sher- 
lock Holmes, with a laugh. ‘“That’s the result of all our 
Study in Scarlet—to get them a testimonial.” 

“Never mind,” I answered; “I have all the facts in 
my journal, and the public shall know them, In the 
meantime you must make yourself contented by the con- 
ciousness of success, like the Roman miser— 


“Populus me sibilat, at mihi plaudo ‘ 
Ipse domi simul ac nummos contemplar in arca.’ ” 


THE CAPTAIN OF THE “POLE-STAR” 


BEING AN EXTRACT FROM THE SINGULAR JOURNAL OB 
JOHN M’ALISTER RAY, STUDENT OF MEDICINE 


SEPTEMBER 11.—Lat. 81° 40’ N.; long. 2° E. Still 
lying-to amid enormous ice fields. The one which 
stretches away to the north of us, and to which our ice- 
anchor is attached, cannot be smaller than an English 
county. To the right and left unbroken sheets extend 
to the horizon. This morning the mate reported that 
there were signs of pack ice to the southward. Should 
this form of sufficient thickness to bar our return, we 
shall be in a position of danger, as the food, I hear, is 
already running somewhat short. It is late in the sea- 
son, and the nights are beginning to reappear. This 
morning I saw a star twinkling just over the foreyard, 
the first since the beginning of May. There is consid- 
erable discontent among the crew, many of whom are 
anxious to get back home to be in time for the herring 
season, when labor always commands a high price upon 
the Scotch coast. As yet their displeasure is only signi- 
fied by sullen countenances and black looks, but I heard. 
from the second mate this afternoon that they contem- 
plated sending a deputation to the captain to explain their 
grievance. I much doubt how he will receive it, as he 
is a man of fierce temper, and very sensitive about any- 
thing approaching to an infringement of his rights. I 
shall venture after dinner to say a few words to him 


ij 
i 
vi 
Ay >, 


A STUDY IN SCARLET 125 


upon the subject. I have always found that he will tol- 
erate from me what he would resent from any other 
member of the crew. Amsterdam Island, at the north- 
west corner of Spitzbergen, is visible upon our starboard 
quarter—a rugged line of volcanic rocks, intersected by 
white seams, which represent glaciers. It is curious to 
think that at the present moment there is probably no 
human being nearer to us than the Danish settlements 
in the south of Greenland—a good nine hundred miles 
as the crow flies. A captain takes a great responsibility 
upon himself when he risks his vessel under such circum- 
stances. No whaler has ever remained in these latitudes 
till so advanced a period of the year. 

9 P. M.—I have spoken to Captain Craigie, and though 
the result has been hardly satisfactory, 1 am bound to say 
that he listened to what I had to say very quietly, and 
even deferentially. When I had finished he put on that 
air of iron determination which I have frequently ob- 
served upon his face, and paced rapidly backward and 
forward across the narrow cabin for some minutes. At 
first I feared that I had seriously offended him, but he 
dispelled the idea by sitting down again and putting his 
hand upon my arm with a gesture which almost amounted 
to acaress. There was a depth of tenderness, too, in his 
wild, dark eyes, which surprised me considerably. “Look 
here, doctor,” he said, “I’m sorry I ever took you—I am, 
indeed—and I would give fifty pounds this minute to see 
you standing safe upon the Dundee quay. It’s hit or 
miss with me this time. There are fish to the north of 
us. How dare you shake your head, sir, when I tell you 
I saw them blowing from the masthead ?”—this in a sud- 
den burst of fury, though I was not conscious of having 
shown any signs of doubt. “T'wo-and-twenty fish in as 
many minutes, as I am a living man, and not one under 
ten feet.* Now, doctor, do you think I can leave the 
country when there is only one infernal strip of ice be- 
tween me and my fortune? If it came on to blow from 
the north to-morrow we could fill the ship and be away 


* A whale is measured among whalers not by the length of its 
body, but by the length of its whalebone. 


126 A STUDY IN SCARLET 


before the frost could catch us. If it came on to blow | 
from the south—well, I suppose the men are paid for 
risking their lives, and as for myself, it matters but little 
to me, for I have more to bind me to the other world | 
than to this one. I confess that I am sorry for you, 
though. I wish I had old Angus Tait, who was with me 
last voyage, for he was a man that would never be missed, 
and you—you said once that you were engaged, did you 
not ?” 

“Yes,” I answered, snapping the spring of the locket 
which hung from my watch chain, and holding up the 
little vignette of Flora. : 

“Curse you!” he yelled, springing out of his seat, with 
his very beard bristling with passion. “What is your 
happiness to me? What have I to do with her that you 
must dangle her photograph before my eyes?’ I almost 
thought that he was about to strike me in the frenzy of 
his rage, but with another imprecation he dashed open 
the door of the cabin and rushed out upon deck, leaving 
me considerably astonished at his extraordinary violence. 
It is the first time that he has ever shown me anything 
but courtesy and kindness. I can hear him pacing ex- 
citedly up and down overhead as I write these lines. 

I should like to give a sketch of the character of this 
man, but it seems presumptuous to attempt such a thing 
upon paper, when the idea in my own mind is at best 
a vague and uncertain one. Several times I have thought 
that I grasped the clew which might explain it, but only 
to be disappointed by his presenting himself in some new 
light which would upset all my conclusions. It may be 
that no human eye but my own shall ever rest upon these 
lines, yet as a psychological study I shall attempt to leave 
some record of Captain Nicholas Craigie. 

A man’s outer case generally gives some indication 
of the soul within. The captain is tall and well formed, 
with dark, handsome face, and a curious way of twitch- 
ing his limbs, which may arise from nervousness, or be 
simply an outcome of his excessive energy. His jaw 
and whole cast of countenance are manly and resolute, 
but the eyes are the distinctive feature of his face. They 


A STUDY IN SCARLET 127 


are of the very darkest hazel, bright and eager, with a 
singular mixture of recklessness in their expression, and 
of something else which I have sometimes thought was 
more allied with horror than any other emotion. Gener- 
ally the former predominated, but on occasions, and more 
particularly when he was thoughtfully inclined, the look 
of fear would spread and deepen until it imparted a new 
character to his whole countenance. It is at these times 
that he is most subject to tempestuous fits of anger, and 
he seems to be aware of it, for I have known him to lock 
himself up so that no one might approach’ him until his 
dark hour was passed. He sleeps badly, and I have 
heard him shouting during the night, but his cabin is 
some little distance from mine and I could never dis- 
tinguish the words which he said. 

This is one phase of his character, and the most dis- 
agreeable one. It is only through my close association 
with him, thrown together as we are day after day, that 
I have observed it. Otherwise he is an agreeable com- 
panion, well-read and entertaining, and as gallant a sea- 
man as ever trod a deck. I shall not easily forget the 
way in which he handled the ship when we were caught 
by a gale among the loose ice at the beginning of April. 
IT have never seen him so cheerful, and even hilarious, 
as he was that night, as he paced backward and forward 
upon the bridge amid the flashing of the lightning and 
the howling of the wind. He has told me several times 
that the thought of death was a pleasant one to him, 
which is a sad thing for a young man to say. He cannot 
be much more than thirty, though his hair and mustache 
are already slightly grizzled. Some great sorrow must 
have overtaken him and blighted his whole life. Perhaps 
I should be the same if I lost my Flora—God knows! 
I think if it were not for her I should care very little 
whether the wind blew from the north or the south to- 
morrow. There, I hear him come down the companion, 
and he has locked himself up in his room, which shows 
that he is still in an unamiable mood. And so to bed, 
as old Pepys would say, for the candle is burning down 


128 A STUDY IN SCARLET | 
(we have to use them now since the nights are closing 
in), and the steward has turned in, so there are no hopes 
of another one. 

September 12.—Calm, clear day, and still lying in the 
same position. What wind there is comes from the south- 
east, but it is very slight. Captain is in a better humor, 
and apologized to me at breakfast for his rudeness. He 
still looks somewhat distrait, however, and retains that 
wild look in his eyes which in a Highlander would mean 
that he was “fey’—at least so our chief engineer re- 
marked to me, and he has some reputation among the 
Celtic portion of our crew as a seer and expounder of 
omens. 

It is strange that superstition should have obtained 
such mastery over this hard-headed and practical race. 
I could not have believed to what an extent it is carried 
had I not observed it for myself. We have had a per- 
fect epidemic of it this voyage, until I have felt in- 
clined to serve out rations of sedatives and nerve tonics 
with the Saturday allowance of grog. The first symptom 
of it was that shortly after leaving Shetland the men 
at the wheel used to complain that they heard plaintive 
cries and screams in the wake of the ship, as if some- 
thing were following it and were unable to overtake it. 
This fiction has been kept up during the whole voyage, 
and on dark nights at the beginning of the seal-fishing 
it was only with great difficulty that men could be induced 
to do their spell. No doubt what they heard was either 
the creaking of the rudder-chains or the cry of some 
passing sea-bird. I have been fetched out of bed several 
times to listen to it, but I need hardly say that I was never 
able to distinguish anything unnatural. The men, how- 
ever, are so absurdly positive upon the subject that it is 
hopeless to argue with them. I mentioned the matter to 
the captain once, but to my surprise he took it very 
gravely, and, indeed, appeared to be considerably dis- 
turbed by what I told him. I should have thought that he 
at least would have been above such vulgar delusions. 

All this disquisition upon superstition leads me up to 
the fact that Mr. Manson, our second mate, saw a ghost 


A STUDY IN SCARLET 129 


last night—or, at least, says that he did, which of course 
is the same thing. It is quite refreshing to have some 
new topic of conversation after the eternal routine of 
bears and whales which has served us for so many 
months. Manson swears the ship is haunted, and that 
he would not stay in her a day if he had any other place 
to go. Indeed, the fellow is honestly frightened, and I 
had to give him some chloral and bromide of potassium 
this morning to steady him down. He seemed quite in- 
dignant when I suggested that he had been having an 
extra glass the night before, and I was obliged to pacify 
him by keeping as grave a countenance as possible during 
his story, which he certainly narrated in a very straight- 
forward and matter-of-fact way. 

“I was on the bridge,” he said, “about four bells in 
the middle watch, just when the night was at its darkest. 
There was a bit of a moon, but the clouds were blowing 
across it so that you couldn’t see far from the ship. 
John M’Leod, the harpooner, came aft from the foc’sle- 
head and reported a strange noise on the starboard bow. 
I went forward and we both heard it, sometimes like a 
bairn crying and sometimes like a wench in pain. I’ve 
been seventeen years to the country, and I never heard 
seal, old or young, make a sound like that. As we were 
standing there on the foc’sle-head the moon came out 
from behind a cloud, and we both saw a sort of white 
figure moving across the ice-field in the same direction 
that we had heard the cries. We lost sight of it for a 
while, but it came back on the port bow, and we could just 
make it out like a shadow on the ice, I sent a hand aft 
for the rifles, and M’Leod and I went down onto the 
pack, thinking that maybe it might be a bear. When we 
got on the ice I lost sight of M’Leod, but I pushed on 
in the direction where I could still hear the cries. I fol- 
lowed them for a mile or maybe more, and then, running 
round a hummock, I came right on to the top of it, stand- 
ing and waiting for me, seemingly. I don’t know what it 
Was; it wasn’t a bear, any way. It was tall and white 
and straight, and if it wasn’t a man nor a woman, I'll 


130 A STUDY IN SCARLET 


stake my davy it was something worse. I made for 
the ship as hard as I could run, and precious glad I 
was to find myself aboard. I signed articles to do my 
duty by the ship, and on the ship I'll stay; but you don’t 
catch me on the ice again after sundown,” 

That is his story, given as far as I can in his own 
words. I fancy what he saw must, in spite of his de- 
nial, have been a young bear erect upon its hind legs, 
an attitude which they often assume when alarmed. 
In the uncertain light this would bear a resemblance to 
a human figure, especially to a man whose nerves were 
already somewhat shaken. Whatever it may have been, 
the occurrence is unfortunate, for it has produced a most 
unpleasant effect upon the crew. ‘Their looks are more 
sullen than before, and their discontent more open. The 
double grievance of being debarred from the herring fish- 
ing and of being detained in what they choose to call a 
haunted vessel may lead them to do something rash. 
Even the harpooners, who are the oldest and steadiest 
among them, are joining in the general agitation. 

Apart from this absurd outbreak of superstition things 
are looking rather more cheerful. The pack which was 
forming to the south of us has partly cleared away, and 
the water is so warm as to lead me to believe that we 
are lying in one of those branches of the Gulf stream 
which run up between Greenland and Spitzbergen. There 
are numerous small Medusz and sea lemons about the 
ship, with abundance of shrimps, so that there is every 
possibility of “fish” being sighted. Indeed, one was seen 
blowing about dinner-time, but in such a position that it 
was impossible for the boats to follow it. 

September 13.—Had an interesting conversation with 
the chief mate, Mr. Milne, upon the bridge. It seems 
that our captain is as great an enigma to the seamen, and 
even to the owners of the vessel, as he has been to me. 
Mr. Milne tells me that when the ship is paid off, upon 
returning from a voyage, Captain Craigie disappears, and 
is not seen again until the approach of another season, — 
when he walks quietly into the office of the company and 


A STUDY IN SCARLET 131 


asks whether his services will be required. He has no 
friend in Dundee, nor does any one pretend to be ac- 
quainted with his early history. His position depends en- 
tirely upon his skill as a seaman and the name for courage 
and coolness which he had earned ‘in the capacity of mate, 
before being entrusted with a separate command. The 
unanimous opinion seems to be that he is not a Scotch- 
man, and that his name is an assumed one. Mr, Milne 
thinks that he has devoted himself to whaling simply 
for the reason that it is the most dangerous occupation 
which he could select, and that he’ courts death in every 
possible manner. He mentioned several instances of 
this, one of which is rather curious, if true. It seems 
that on one occasion he did not put in an appearance at 
the office, and a substitute had to be selected in his 
place. That was at the time of the last Russian and 
Turkish war. When he turned up again next spring he 
had a puckered wound in the side of his neck which he 
used to endeavor to conceal with his cravat. Whether 
the mate’s inference that he had been engaged in the war 
is true or not I cannot say. It was certainly a strange 
coincidence. 

The wind is veering round in an easterly direction, but 
is still very slight. I think the ice is lying closer than 
it did yesterday. As far as the eye can reach on every 
side there is one wide expanse of spotless white, only 
broken by an occasional rift or the dark shadow of a 
hummock. To the south there is the narrow lane of 
blue water which is our sole means of escape, and which 
is closing up every day. The captain is taking a heavy 
responsibility upon himself. I hear that the tank of 
potatoes has been finished, and even the biscuits are 
tunning short, but he preserves the same impassible coun- 
tenance, and spends the greater part of the day at the 
crow’s nest, sweeping the horizon with his glass. His 
manner is very variable, and he seems to avoid my society, 
but there has been no repetition of the violence which he 
showed the other night. 

7.30 P. M.—My deliberate opinion is that we are com- 


132 A STUDY IN SCARLET 


manded by a madman. Nothing else can account for 


the extraordinary vagaries of Captain Craigie. It is 


fortunate that I have kept this journal of our voyage, as’ 


it will serve to justify us in case we have to put him under 
any sort of restraint, a step which I should only consent 


to as a last resource. Curiously enough, it was he 


himself who suggested lunacy and not mere eccentricity 
as the secret of his strange conduct. He was standing 
upon the bridge about an hour ago, peering, as usual, 
through his glass, while I was walking up and down the 
quarter-deck. The majority of the men were below at 
their tea, for the watches have not been kept regularly 
of late. Tired of walking, I leaned against the bulwarks 
and admired the mellow glow cast by the sinking sun 
upon the great ice fields which surround us. I was 
suddenly aroused from the reverie into which I had fallen 
by a hoarse voice at my elbow, and starting round I found 
that the captain had descended and was standing by my 
side. He was starting out over the ice with an expression 
in which horror, surprise, and something approaching to 


joy were contending for the mastery. In spite of the cold, 


great drops of perspiration were coursing down his fore- 


head, and he was evidently fearfully excited. His limbs 
twitched like those of a man upon the verge of an epileptic 


fit, and the lines about his mouth were drawn and hard. © 

“Look!” he gasped, seizing me by the wrist, but still 
keeping his eyes upon the distant ice, and moving. his’ 
head slowly in a horizontal direction, as if following 


some object which was moving across the field of vision. 


“Look! there, man, there! Between the hummocks! 
Now coming out from behind the far one! You see her 
—you must see her! There still! Flying from me, by 


God! flying from me—and—gone!” 


He uttered the last two words in a whisper of concen- 


trated agony which shall never fade from my remem- 
brance. Clinging to the ratlines, he endeavored to climb 


upon the top of the bulwarks, as if in the hope of ob- 
taining a last glance at the departing object. His strength 
was not equal to the attempt, however, and he staggered 


A STUDY IN SCARLET 133 


back against the saloon skylights, where he leaned pant- 
ing and exhausted. His face was so livid that 1 expected 
him to become unconscious, so lost no time in leading 
him down the companion and stretching him upon one 
of the sofas in the cabin. I then poured him out some 
brandy, which I held to his lips, and which had a won- 
derful effect upon him, bringing the blood back into his 
white face and steadying his poor, shaken limbs. He 
raised himself up upon his elbow, and, looking round 
to see that we were alone, he beckoned me to come and 
sit beside him. 

“You saw it, didn’t you?” he asked, still in the same 
subdued, awesome tone so foreign to the nature of the 
man. 

“No, I saw nothing.” 

His head sunk back again upon the cushions. “No, 
he wouldn’t without the glass,’ he murmured. “He 
couldn’t. It was the glass that showed her to me, and 
then the eyes of love—the eyes of love. I say, Doc, 
don’t let the steward in! He'll think I’m mad. Just 
bolt the door, will you?” 

I rose and did what he had commanded. 

He lay quiet for a while—lost in thought, apparently, 
and then raised himself up upon his elbow again, and 
asked for some more brandy. 

“You don’t think I am, do you, Doc?” he asked, as I 
was putting the bottle back into the after-locker. “Tell 
me, now, as man to man, do you think that I am mad?” 

“T think you have something on your mind,” I an- 
swered, “which is exciting you and doing you a good deal 
of harm.” 

“Right there, lad!’ he cried, his eyes sparkling from 
the effects of the brandy. “Plenty on my mind—plenty! 
But I can work out the latitude and the longitude, and 
I can handle my sextant and manage my logarithms. 
You couldn’t prove me mad in a court of law, could you, 
now?” It was curious to hear the man lying back and 
coolly arguing out the question of his own sanity. 

“Perhaps not,’ I said: “but still I think you would 


t 
, 


134 A STUDY IN SCARLET 
eee 
be wise to get home as soon as you can, and settle down 
to a quiet life for a while.” | 

“Get home, eh?” he muttered, with a sneer upon his 
face. “One word for me and two for yourself, lad. 
Settle down with Flora—pretty little Flora, Are bad. 
dreams signs of madness?” | 

“Sometimes,” I answered. 

“What else? What would be the first symptoms ?” 

“Pains in the head, noises in the ears, flashes before 
the eyes, delusions nf 

“Ah! what about them?” he interrupted. “What would 
you call a delusion?” 

“Seeing a thing which is not there is a delusion.” 

“But she was there!” he groaned to himself. “She 
was there!” and, rising, he unbolted the door and walked 
with slow and uncertain steps to his own cabin, where 
I have no doubt he will remain until to-morrow morning, 
His system seems to have received a terrible shock, what- 
ever it may have been that he imagined himself to have 
seen. The man becomes a greater mystery every day, 
though I fear that the solution which he has himself sug- 
gested is the correct one, and that his reason is affected. 
I do not think that a guilty conscience has anything to do 
with his behavior. The idea is a popular one among the 
officers, and, I believe, the crew, but I have seen nothing 
to support it. He has not the air of a guilty man, but of 
one who has had terrible usage at the hands of fortune, 
and who should be regarded as a martyr rather than a 
criminal. 

The wind is veering round to the south to-night. 
God help us if it blocks that narrow pass which is our 
only road to safety! Situated as we are on the edge of 
the main Arctic pack, or the “barrier,” as it is called 
by the whalers, any wind from the north has the eftect 
of shredding out the ice around us and allowing our 
escape, while a wind from the south blows up all the 
loose ice behind us and hems us in between two packs. 
God help us, I say again! 

September 14.—Sunday, and a day of rest. My fears 


) 


A STUDY IN SCARLET 135 


have been confirmed, and the thin strip of blue water 
has disappeared from the southward. Nothing but the 
great, motionless ice fields around us, with their weird 
hummocks and fantastic pinnacles. There is a deathly 
silence over their wide expanse which is horrible. No 
lapping of the waves now, no cries of seagulls or strain- 
ing of sails, but one deep universal silence, in which the 
murmurs of the seamen and the creak of their boots 
upon the white, shining deck seem discordant and out 
of place. Our only visitor was an Arctic fox, a rare 
animal upon the pack, though common enough upon the 
land. He did not come near the ship, however, but after 
surveying us from a distance fled rapidly across the ice. 
This was curious conduct, as they generally know nothing 
of man, and being of an inquisitive nature, become so 
familiar that they are easily captured. Incredible as it 
may seem, even this little incident produced a bad effect 
upon the crew. “Yon puir beastie kens mair, ay, an’ sees 
mair nor you nor me!” was the comment of one of the 
leading harpooners, and the others nodded their acquies- 
cence. It is vain to attempt to argue against such puerile 
superstition. They have made up their minds that there 
is a curse upon the ship, and nothing will ever persuade 
them to the contrary. 

The captain remained in seclusion all day except for 
about half an hour in the afternoon, when he came out 
upon the quarter-deck. I observed that he kept his eye 
fixed upon the spot where the vision of yesterday had 
appeared, and was quite prepared for another outburst, 
but none such came. He did not seem to see me, although 
I was standing close beside him, Divine service was 
read, as usual, by the chief engineer. It is a curious 
thing that in whaling vessels the Church of England 
prayer-book is always employed, although there is never 
a member of that Church among either officers or crew. 
Our men are all Roman Catholics or Presbyterians, the 
former predominating. Since a ritual is used which is 
foreign to both, neither can complain that the other is 
preferred to them, and they listen with all attention and 


136 A STUDY IN SCARLET 
eee 
devotion, so that the system has something to recommend 
it. | | 
A glorious sunset, which made the great fields of ice 
look like a lake of blood. I have never seen a finer and 
at the same time more weird effect. Wind is veering 
round. If it will blow twenty-four hours from the north 
all will yet be well. | 
September 15.—To-day is Flora’s birthday. Dear lass! 
it is well that she cannot see her boy, as she used to call 
me, shut up among the ice fields with a crazy captain 
and a few weeks’ provisions. No doubt she scans the 
shipping list in the “Scotsman” every morning to see 
if we are reported from Shetland. I have to set an 
example to the men and look cheery and unconcerned, 
but God knows my heart is very heavy at times. | 
The thermometer is at 19 Fahrenheit to-day. There 
is but little wind, and what there is comes from an un- 
favorable quarter. Captain is in an excellent humor: I 
think he imagines he has seen some other omen or vision, 
poor fellow, during the night, for he came into my room 
early in the morning and, stooping down over my bunk, 
whispered, “It wasn’t a delusion, Doc; it’s all right!’ 
After breakfast he asked me to find out how much food. 
was left, which the second mate and I proceeded to do. 
It is even less than we had expected, Forward they have 
half a tank full of biscuits, three barrels of salt meat, and 
a very limited supply of coffee beans and sugar. In the 
after-hold and lockers there are a good many luxuries, 
such as tinned salmon, soups, harricot mutton, etc., but. 
they will go a very short way among a crew of fifty men. 
There are two barrels of flour in the store-room, and 
an unlimited supply of tobacco. Altogether there is about | 
enough to keep the men on half rations for eighteen or 
twenty days—certainly not more. When we reported the. 
state of things to the captain he ordered all hands to be 
piped, and addressed them from the quarter-deck. I : 
never saw him to better advantage. With his tall, well- 
knit figure, and dark, animated face, he seemed a man 
born to command, and he discussed the situation in a cool, : 


A STUDY IN SCARLET 137 


sailor-like way which showed that, while appreciating the 
danger, he had an eye for every loophole of escape. 
“My lads,” he said, “no doubt you think I brought 
you into this fix, if it is a fix, and maybe some of you 
feel bitter against me on account of it. But you must 
remember that for many a season no ship that comes 
to the country has brought in as much oil-money as 
the old ‘Pole-Star,’ and every one of you has had his 
share of it. You can leave your wives behind you in 
comfort while other poor fellows come back to find 
their lasses on the parish. If you have to thank me for 
the one you have to thank me for the other, and we may 
call it quits. We've tried a bold venture before this 
and succeeded, so now that we’ve tried one and failed 
we've no cause to cry out about it. If the worst comes 
to the worst, we can make the land across the ice, and 
lay in a stock of seals which will keep us alive until the 
spring. It won’t come to that, though, for you'll see the 
Scotch coast again before three weeks are out. At 
present every man must go on half rations, share and 
share alike, and no favor to any. Keep up your hearts 
and you'll pull through this, as you’ve pulled through 
many a danger before.” ‘These few simple words of his 
had a wonderful effect upon the crew. His former un- 
popularity was forgotten, and the old harpooner whom I 
have already mentioned for his superstition led off three 
cheers, which were heartily joined in by all hands. 
September 16.—The wind has veered round to the 
north during the night, and the ice shows some-symptoms 
of opening out. The men are in good humor in spite 
of the short allowance upon which they have been placed. 
Steam is kept up in the engine-room, that there may be 
no delay should an opportunity for escape present it- 
self. The captain is in exuberant spirits, though he still 
retains that wild “fey” expression which I have already 
remarked upon. This burst of cheerfulness puzzles me 
more than his former gloom. I cannot understand it. 
I think I mentioned in an early part of this journal that 
one of his oddities is that he never permits any person 


138 A STUDY IN SCARLET 


to enter his cabin, but insists upon making his own bed, 
such as it is, and performing every other office for him- 
self. 

To my surprise he handed me the key to-day and re- 
quested me to go down there and take the time by his 
chronometer while he measured the altitude of the sun 
at noon. It was a bare little room, containing a wash- 
ing-stand and a few books, but little else in the way of 
luxury, except some pictures upon the walls. The ma- 
jority of these are small, cheap oleographs, but there 
was one water-color sketch of the head of a young lady 
which arrested my attention. It was evidently a por- 
trait, and not one of those fancy types of female beauty 
which sailors particularly affect. No artist could have 
evolved from his own mind such a mixture of character 
and weakness. The languid, dreamy eyes, with their 
drooping lashes, and the broad, low brow, unruffled by 
thought or care, were in strong contrast with the clean- 
cut, prominent jaw, and the resolute set of the lower 
lip. Underneath it in one of the corners was written, 
‘M. B., xt. 19.” That any one in the short’ space 
of nineteen years of existence could develop such strength. 
of will as was stamped upon her face seemed to me at 
the time to be well-nigh incredible. She must have been’ 
an extraordinary woman. Her features have thrown such 
a glamour over me that, though I had but a fleeting glance” 
at them, I could, were I a draughtsman, reproduce them 
line for line upon this page of the journal. I wonder what 
part she has played in our captain’s life. He has hung 
her picture at the end of his berth, so that his eyes con- 
tinually rest upon it. Were he a less reserved man I 
should make some remark upon the subject. Of the other 
things in his cabin there was nothing worthy of mention” 
—uniform coats, a camp-stool, small looking-glass, to- 
bacco-box, and numerous pipes, including an Oriental 
hookah—which, by-the-bye, gives some color to Mr. 
Milne’s story about his participation in the war, though 
the connection may seem rather a distant one. : 

11.20 P. M.—Captain just gone to bed after a long 


j 
4 


A STUDY IN SCARLET 139 


and interesting conversation on general topics. When he 
chooses he can be a most fascinating companion, being 
remarkably well read, and having the power of expressing 
his opinion forcibly without appearing to be dogmatic. 
I hate to have my intellectual toes trod upon. He spoke 
about the nature of the soul, and sketched out the views 
of Aristotle and Plato upon the subject in a masterly 
manner. He seems to have a leaning for metempsychosis 
and the doctrines of Pythagoras. In discussing them 
we touched upon, modern spiritualism, and I made some 
joking allusion to the impostures of Slade, upon which, 
to my surprise, he warned me most impressively against 
confusing the innocent with the guilty, and argued that 
it would be as logical to brand Christianity as an error 
because Judas, who professed that religion, was a villain. 
He shortly afterward bid me good-night and retired to 
his room. 

The wind is freshening up, and blows steadily from the 
north. The nights are as dark now as they are in Eng- 
land. I hope to-morrow may set us free from our frozen 
fetters. 

September 17,—The bogie again. Thank heaven that 
I have strong nerves! The superstition of these poor 
fellows, and the circumstantial accounts which they give, 
with the utmost earnestness and self-conviction, would 
horrify any man not accustomed to their ways. There 
are many versions of the matter, but the sum _ total 
of them all is that something uncanny has been flitting 
round the ship all night, and that Sandy McDonald of 
Peterhead and “lang”? Peter Williamson of Shetland saw 
it, as also did Mr. Milne on the bridge—so, having three 
witnesses, they can make a better case of it than the second 
mate did. I spoke to Milne after breakfast, and told him 
that he should be above such nonsense, and that as an 
officer he ought to set the men a better example. He 
shook his weather-beaten head ominously, but answered 
with characteristic caution, ““Mebbe aye, mebbe na, doc- 
tor,” he said; “I didna ca’ it a ghaist. I canna say I 
preen my faith in sea bogles an’ the like, though there’s a 


140 A STUDY IN SCARLET 


mony as claims to ha’ seen a’ that and waur. I’m no 
easy feared, but maybe your ain bluid would run a bit 
cauld, mun, if, instead o’ speerin’ aboot it in daylicht, | 
ye were wi’ me last night, an’ seed an awfu’ like shape, | 
white an’ grewsome, whiles here, whiles there, an’ it 
ereetin’ and ca’ing in the darkness like a bit lambie 
that hae lost its mither. Ye would na’ be sae ready 
to put it a’ doon to auld wives’ clavers then, I’m thinkin,’ ”’ 
I saw it was hopeless to reason with him, so contented 
myself with begging him as a personal, favor to call me 
up the next time the spectre appeared—a request to which 
he acceded with many ejaculations expressive of his hopes 
that such an opportunity might never arise. | 
As I had hoped, the white desert behind us has be-- 
come broken by many thin streaks of water which in-— 
tersect it in all directions. Our latitude to-day was 
80° 52’ N., which shows that there is a strong southerly ~ 
drift upon the pack. Should the wind continue favorable 
it will break up as rapidly as it formed. At present we — 
can do nothing but smoke and wait and hope for the 
best. JI am rapidly becoming a fatalist. When dealing 
with such uncertain factors as wind and ice a man can be 
nothing else. Perhaps it was the wind and sand of the 
Arabian deserts which gave the minds of the original 
followers of Mohammed their tendency to bow to kismet. 
These spectral alarms have a very bad effect upon the — 
captain. I feared that it might excite his sensitive mind, | 
and endeavored to conceal the absurd story from him, — 
but unfortunately he overheard one of the men making | 
an allusion to it, and insisted upon being informed about — 
it. As 1 had expected, it brought out all his latent lunacy — 
in an exaggerated form. I can hardly believe that this 
is the same man who discoursed philosophy last night 
with the most critical acumen and coolest judgment. He 
is pacing backward and forward upon the quarter-deck — 
like a caged tiger, stopping now and then to throw out 
his hands with a yearning gesture, and stare impatiently 
out over the ice. He keeps up a continual mutter to 
himself, and once he called out, “But a little time, love—_ 


A STUDY IN SCARLET 141 


but a little time!” Poor fellow! it is sad to see a gallant 
seaman and accomplished gentleman reduced to such a 
pass, and to think that imagination and delusion can cow 
a mind to which real danger was but the salt ‘of life. 
Was ever a man in such a position as I, between a de- 
mented captain and a ghost-seeing mate? I sometimes 
think I am the only really sane man aboard the vessel— 
except, perhaps, the second engineer, who is a kind of 
ruminant, and would care nothing for all the fiends in 
the Red Sea so long as they would leave him alone and 
not disarrange his tools. 

The ice is still opening rapidly, and there is every 
probability of our being able to make a start to-morrow 
morning. They will think I am inventing when I tell 
them at home all the strange things that have befallen me. 

12 P. M.—I have been a good deal startled, though 
I feel steadier now, thanks to a stiff glass of brandy. 
IT am hardly myself yet, however, as this handwriting 
will testify. The fact is that I have gone through a very 
strange experience, and am beginning to doubt whether 
I was justified in branding every one on board as madmen 
because they professed to have seen things which did 
not seem reasonable to my understanding. Pshaw! I 
am a fool to let such a trifle unnerve me, and yet, com- 
ing as it does after all these alarms, it has an additional 
significance, for I cannot doubt either Mr. Manson’s 
story or that of the mate, now that I have experienced 
that which I used formerly to scoff at. 

After all it was nothing very alarming—a mere sound, 
and that was all. I cannot expect that any one reading 
this, if any one ever should read it, will sympathize with 
my feelings, or realize the effect which it produced upon 
me at the time. Supper was over, and I had gone on 
deck to have a quiet pipe before turning in. The night 
was very dark—so dark that, standing upon the quarter- 
boat, I was unable to see the officer upon the bridge. I 
think I have already mentioned the extraordinary silence 
which prevails in these frozen seas. In other parts of the 
world, be they ever so barren, there is some slight vibra- 


142 A STUDY IN SCARLET 


tion of the air—some faint hum, be it from the distant 
haunts of men, or from the leaves of the trees, or the 
wings of the birds, or even the faint rustle of the grass 
that covers the ground. One may not actively perceive 
the sound, and yet if it were withdrawn it would be 
missed. It is only here in these Arctic seas that stark, 
unfathomable stillness obtrudes itself upon you in all its 
grewsome reality. You find your tympanum straining 
to catch some little murmur, and dwelling eagerly upon 
every accidental sound within the vessel. In this state 
I was leaning against the bulwarks, when there arose 
from the ice almost directly underneath me a cry, sharp 
and shrill, upon the silent air of the night, beginning, as 
it seemed to me, at a note such as prima donna never 
reached, and mounting from that ever higher and higher, 
until it culminated in a long wail of agony, which might 
have been the last cry of a lost soul. The ghastly scream 
is still ringing in my ears. Grief, unutterable grief, 
seemed to be expressed in it, and a great longing, and 
yet through it all there was an occasional wild note 
of exultation. It shrilled out from close beside me, and 
yet as I glared into the darkness I could discern nothing. 
I waited some little time, but without hearing any repeti- 
tion of the sound, so I came below, more shaken than 
I have ever been in my life before. As I came down the 
companion I met Mr. Milne coming up to relieve the 
watch. “Weel, doctor,” he said, “maybe that’s aul wives’ 
clavers, tae? Did ye no hear it skirling? Maybe that’s 
a supersteetion? What d’ye think o’t noo?” I was 
obliged to apologize to the honest fellow, and acknowledge 
that I was as puzzled by it as he was. Perhaps to-morrow 
things may look different. At present I dare hardly 
write all that I think. Reading it again in days to come, 
when I have shaken off all these associations, I should 
despise myself for having been so weak. 

September 18.—Passed a restless and uneasy night, 
still haunted by that strange sound. The captain does 
not look as if he had had much repose, either, for his 
face is haggard and his eyes bloodshot. I have not. 


A STUDY IN SCARLET 143 


told him of my adventure of last night, nor shall I. He 
is already restless and excited, standing up, sitting down, 
and apparently utterly unable to keep still. 

A fine lead appeared in the pack this morning, as I had 
expected, and we were able to cast off our ice-anchor and 
steam about twelve miles in a west-sou’-westerly direc- 
tion. We were then brought to a halt by a great floe as 
massive as any which we have left behind us. It bars 
our progress completely, so we can do nothing but anchor 
again and wait until it breaks up, which it will probably 
do within twenty-four hours if the wind holds. Several 
bladder-nosed seals were seen swimming in the water, and 
one was shot, an immense creature more than eleven feet 
long. They are fierce, pugnacious animals, and are said 
to be more than a match for a bear. Fortunately they 
are slow and clumsy in their movements, so that there is 
little danger in attacking them upon the ice. 

The captain evidently does not think we have seen the 
last of our troubles, though why he should take a gloomy 
view of the situation is more than I can fathom, since 
every one else on board considers that we have had a 
miraculous escape and are sure now to reach the open 
sea. 
“T suppose you think it’s all right now, doctor?” he 
said, as we sat together after dinner. 

“TI hope so,” I answered. 

“We mustn’t be too sure—and yet no doubt you are 
right. We'll all be in the arms of our own true loves 
before long, lad, won’t we? But we mustn’t be too 
sure—we mustn’t be too sure.” 

He sat silent a little, swinging his leg thoughtfully 
backward and forward. “Look here,” he continued; “‘it’s 
a dangerous place this, even at its best—a treacherous, 
dangerous place. I have known men cut off very sud- 
denly in a land like this. A slip would do it sometimes— 
a single slip, and down you go through a crack, and only 
a bubble on the green water to show where it was that 
you sank. It’s a queer thing,” he continued with a ner- 
vous laugh, “but all the years I’ve been in this country I 


144 A STUDY IN SCARLET i 


never once thought of making a will—not that I have any- 
thing to leave in particular, but still, when a man is ex- 
posed to danger, he should have everything arranged 
and ready. Don’t you think so?” | 

“Certainly,” I answered, wondering what on earth he 
was driving at. 

“He feels better for knowing it’s all settled,’ he went 
on. “Now if anything should ever befall me I hope that 
you will look after things for me. There is very little in 
the cabin, but such as it is I should like it to be sold, 
and the money divided in the same proportion as the oil- 
money among the crew. The chronometer 1 wish you 
to keep yourself as some slight remembrance of our 
voyage. Of course all this is a mere precaution, but I 
thought I would take the opportunity of speaking to you 
about it. I suppose I might rely upon you if there were 
any necessity?” | 

“Most assuredly,’ I answered; “and since you are 
taking this step, I may as well i | 

“You! you!” he interrupted. “Yow’re all right. What 
the devil is the matter with you? There, I didn’t mean 
to be peppery, but I don’t like to hear a young fellow, 
that has hardly begun life, speculating about death. Go 
up on deck and get some fresh air into your lungs instead 
of talking nonsense in the cabin, and encouraging me to 
do the same.” 

The more I think of this conversation of ours the less” 
do I like it. Why should the man be settling his affairs 
at the very time when we seem to be emerging from 
all danger? There must be some method in his madness. 
Can it be that he contemplates suicide? I remember 
that upon one occasion he spoke in a deeply reverent 
manner of the heinousness of the crime of self-destruc- 
tion. I shall keep my eye upon him, however, and though — 
I cannot obtrude upon the privacy of his cabin, I shall 
at least make a point of remaining on deck as long as 
he stays up. } 

Mr. Milne pooh-poohs my fears and says it is only 
the “skipper’s little way.’ He himself takes a very rosy 


A STUDY IN SCARLET 145 


view of the situation. According to him we shall be 
out of the ice by the day after to-morrow, pass Jan 
Meyen two days after that, and sight Shetland in little 
more than a week. I hope he may not be too sanguine. 
His opinion may be fairly balanced against the gloomy 
precautions of the captain, for he is an old and ex- 
perienced seaman, and weighs his words well before 
uttering them. 
2 So * Xe X* 2 

The long-impending catastrophe has come at last. I 
hardly know what to write about it. The captain is gone. 
He may come back to us again alive, but I fear me— 
I fear me. It is now seven o’clock of the morning of the 
19th of September. I have spent the whole night traver- 
sing the great ice-floe in front of us with a party of sea- 
men in the hope of coming upon some trace of him, but in 
vain. I shall try to give some account of the circumstances 
which attended upon his disappearance. Should any one 
ever chance to read the words which I put down, I trust 
they will remember that I do not write from conjecture or 
from hearsay, but that I, a sane and educated man, am de- 
scribing accurately what actually occurred before my 
very eyes. My inferences are my own, but I-+shall be 
answerable for the facts. 

The captain remained in excellent spirits after the 
conversation which I have recorded. He appeared to be 
nervous and impatient, however, frequently changing his 
position, and moving his limbs in an aimless way, which 
is characteristic of him at times. In a quarter of an 
hour he went upon deck seven times, only to descend 
after a few hurried paces. I followed him each time, 
for there was something about his face which confirmed 
my resolution of not letting him out of my sight. He 
seemed to observe the effect which his movements had 
produced, for he endeavored by an over-done hilarity, 
laughing boisterously at the very smallest of jokes, to 
quiet my apprehensions. 

_ After supper he went onto the poop once more, and I 
with him. The night was dark and very still, save for 


146 A STUDY IN SCARLET 


a 


the melancholy soughing of the wind among the spars. | 
A thick cloud was coming up from the northwest, and | 
the ragged tentacles which it threw out in front of it | 
were drifting across the face of the moon, which only © 
shone now and again through a rift in the wrack. The © 
captain paced rapidly backward and forward, and then, 
seeing me still dogging him, he came across and hinted 
that he thought I should be better below—which, I need 
hardly say, had the effect of strengthening my resolution 
to remain on deck. 

I think he forgot about my presence after this, for 
he stood silently leaning over the taffrail, and peering 
out across the great desert of snow, part of which lay in 
shadow, while part glittered mistily in the moonlight. 
Several times I could see by his movements that he was 
referring to his watch, and once he muttered a short sen- 
tence, of which I could only catch the one word, “ready.” 

I confess to having felt an eerie feeling creeping over me 
as I watched the loom of his tall figure through the 
darkness, and noted how completely he fulfilled the idea 
of a man who is keeping a tryst. A tryst with whom? 
Some vague perception began to dawn upon me as [ 
pieced one fact with another, but I was utterly unprepared — 
for the sequel. 

By the sudden intensity of his attitude I felt that he 
saw something. I crept up behind him. He was staring 
with an eager, questioning gaze at what seemed to be 
a wreath of mist, blown swiftly in a line with the ship. 
It was a dim, nebulous body, devoid of shape, sometimes 
more, sometimes less apparent, as the light fell on it. 
The moon was dimmed in its brilliancy at the moment by 
a canopy of*thinnest cloud, like the coating of an anemone. 

“Coming, lass, coming,” cried the skipper, in a voice 
of unfathomable tenderness and compassion, like one 
who soothes a beloved one by some favor long looked 
for, and as pleasant to bestow as to receive. 

What followed happened in an instant. I had no 
power to interfere. He gave one spring to the top of — 
the bulwarks, and another which took him onto the ice, 


A STUDY IN SCARLET 147 


almost at the feet of the pale, misty figure. He held 
out his hands as if to clasp it, and so ran into the darkness 
with outstretched arms and loving words. I still stood 
rigid and motionless, straining my eyes after his re- 
treating form, until his voice died away in the distance. 
I never thought to see him again, but at that moment the 
moon shone out brilliantly through a chink in the cloudy 
heaven, and illuminated the great field of ice. Then I saw 
his dark figure, already a long way off, running with 
prodigious speed across the frozen plain. That was the 
last glimpse which we caught of him—perhaps the last 
we ever shall. A party was organized to follow him 
and I accompanied it, but the men’s hearts were not in ~ 
the work and nothing was found. Another will be formed 
within a few hours. I can hardly believe that I have 
not been dreaming, or suffering from some hideous night- 
mare, as I write these things down. 

7.30 P. M.—Just returned, dead beat and utterly 
tired out, from a second unsuccessful search for the 
captain. The floe is of enormous extent, for though we 
have traversed at least twenty miles of its surface there 
has been no sign of its coming to an end. The frost 
has been so severe of late that the overlying snow is 
frozen as hard as granite, otherwise we might have had 
the footsteps to guide us. The crew are anxious that 
we should cast off and steam round the floe and so to 
the southward, for the ice has opened up during the 
night, and the sea is visible upon the horizon. They 
argue that Captain Craigie is certainly dead, and that 
we are all risking our lives to no purpose by remaining 
when we have an opportunity of escape. Mr. Milne and 
I have had the greatest difficulty in persuading them to 
wait until to-morrow night, and have been compelled to 
promise that we will not under any circumstances delay 
our departure longer than that. We propose, therefore, 
to take a few hours’ sleep, and then to start upon a final 
search, 

September 20, evening.—I crossed the ice this morning 
with a party of men exploring the southern part of the 


148 A STUDY IN SCARLET 


| 
a 
| 

: 


floe, while Mr. Milne went off in a northerly direction. | 
We pushed on for ten or twelve miles without seeing a 
trace of any living thing except a single bird, which 
fluttered a great way over our heads, and which by its 

flight I should judge to have been a falcon, The southern 

extremity of the ice field tapered away into a long, narrow y 
spit which projected out into the sea. When we came 

to the base of this promontory the men halted, but I 

begged them to continue to the extreme end of it, that we 

might have the satisfaction of knowing that no possible 

chance had been neglected. 

We had hardly gone a hundred yards before M’Donald 
of Peterhead cried out that he saw something in front 
of us, and began to run. We all got a glimpse of it 
and ran, too. At first it was only a vague darkness 
against the white ice, but as we raced along together 
it took the shape of a man, and eventually of the man 
of whom we were in search. He was lying face down- 
ward upon a frozen bank. Many little crystals of ice 
and feathers of snow had drifted onto him as he lay, and 
sparkled upon his dark seaman’s jacket. As we came up 
some wandering puff of wind caught these tiny flakes in 
its vortex and they whirled up into the air, partially 
descended again, and then, caught once more in the cur- 
rent, sped rapidly away in the direction of the sea. To 
my eyes it seemed but a snowdrift, but many of my 
companions averred that it started up in the shape of a 
woman, stooped over the corpse and kissed it, and then 
hurried away across the floe. I have learned never to 
ridicule any man’s opinion, however strange it may seem. 
Sure it is that Captain Nicholas Craigie had met with 
no painful end, for there was a bright smile upon his 
blue, pinched features, and his hands were still out- 
stretched, as though grasping at the strange visitor which 
had summoned him away into the dim world that lies 
beyond the grave. 

We buried him the same afternoon with the ship’s en- 
sign around him and a thirty-two pound shot at his feet. 
I read the burial service, while the rough sailors wept 


A STUDY IN SCARLET 149 


like children, for there were many who owed much to 
his kind heart, and who showed now the affection which 
his strange ways had repelled during his lifetime. He 
went off the grating with a dull, sullen splash, and as I 
looked into the green water I saw him go down, down, 
down until he was but a little flickering patch of white 
hanging upon the outskirts of eternal darkness. Then 
even that faded away, and he was gone. There he shall 
lie, with his secret and his sorrows and his mystery all 
still buried in his breast, until that great day when the 
sea shall give up its dead, and Nicholas Craigie come out 
from among the ice with the smile/ upon his face, and 
his stiffened arms outstretched in greeting. I pray that 
his lot may be a happier one in that life than it has been 
in this. 

I shall not continue my journal. Our road to home 
lies plain and clear before us, and the great ice field 
will soon be but a remembrance of the past. It will be 
some time before I get over the shock produced by recent 
events. When I began this record of our voyage [I little 
thought of how I should be compelled to finish it. I 
am writing these final words in the lonely cabin, still 
starting at times and fancying I hear the quick, nervous 
step of the dead man upon the deck above me. I entered 
his cabin to-night, as was my duty, to make a list of 
his affects, in order that they might be entered in the 
official log. All was as it had been upon my previous 
visit, save that the picture which I have described as 
having hung at the end of his bed had been cut out of 
its frame, as with a knife, and was gone. With this 
last link in a strange chain of evidence I close my diary 
of the voyage of the “Pole-Star.” 


[Note by Dr. John M’Alister Ray, senior—I have read over 
the strange events connected with the death of the captain of the 
“Pole-Star,” as narrated in the journal of my son. That every- 
thing occurred exactly as he describes it I have the fullest con- 
fidence, and, indeed, the most positive certainty, for I know him 
to be a strong-nerved and unimaginative man, with the strictest 
regard for veracity. Still, the story is, on the face of it, so 
vague and so improbable, that I was long opposed to its publica- 


150 A STUDY IN SCARLET 


tion. Within the last few days, however, I have had independent 
testimony upon the subject which throws a new light upon it. 
I had run down to Edinburgh to attend a meeting of the British 
Medical Association, when I chanced to come across Dr. P 
an old college chum of mine, now practicing at Saltash, in De- 
vonshire. Upon my telling him of this experience of my son’s, 
he declared to me that he was familiar with the man, and 
proceeded, to my no small surprise, to give me a description 
of him which tallied remarkably well with that given in the 
journal, except that he depicted him as a younger man. Accord- 
ing to his account, he had been engaged to a young lady of singular 
beauty residing upon the Cornish coast. During his absence at 
sea his betrothed had died under circumstances of peculiar horror.] 


J. HABAKUK JEPHSON’S STATEMENT 


In the month of December in the year 1873 the British 
ship “Dei Gratia” steered into Gibraltar, having in tow 
the derelict brigantine ‘‘Marie Celeste,” which had been 
picked up in latitude 38° 40’, longitude 17° 15’ W. 
There were several circumstances in connection with the 
condition and appearance of this abandoned vessel which 
excited considerable comment at the time, and aroused 
a curiosity which has never been satisfied. What these 
circumstances were was summed up in an able article 
which appeared in the Gibralter “Gazette.” The curious 
can find it in the issue for January 4, 1874, unless my 
memory deceives me. For the benefit of those, how- 
ever, who may be unable to refer to the paper in ques- 
tion, I shall subjoin a few extracts which touch upon the 
leading features of the case. 

“We have ourselves,” says the anonymous writer in 
the “Gazette,” “been over the derelict ‘Marie Celeste,’ 
and have closely questioned the officers of the ‘Dei 
Gratia’ on every point which might throw light on the 
affair. They are of opinion that she had been aban-— 
doned several days, or perhaps weeks, before being picked 
up. The official log, which was found in the cabin, states 
that the vessel sailed from Boston to Lisbon, starting 
upon October 16. It is, however, most imperfectly kept, 
and affords little information. There is no reference to 
rough weather, and, indeed, the state of the vessel’s 


A STUDY™“IN SCARLET 151 


paint and rigging excludes the idea that she was aban- 
doned for any such reason. She is perfectly watertight. 
No signs of a struggle or of violence are to be detected, 
and there is absolutely nothing to account for the dis- 
appearance of the crew. ‘There are several indications 
that a lady was present on board, a sewing-machine being 
found in the cabin and some articles of female attire. 
These probably belonged to the captain’s wife, who is 
mentioned in the log as having accompanied her husband. 
As an instance of the mildness of the weather, it may 
be remarked that a bobbin of silk was found standing 
upon the sewing-machine, though the least roll of the 
vessel would have precipitated it to the floor. The boats 
were intact and slung upon the davits, and the cargo, 
consisting of tallow and American clocks, was untouched. 
An old-fashioned sword of curious workmanship was 
discovered among some lumber in the forecastle, and 
this weapon is said to exhibit a longitudinal striation on 
the steel, as if it had been recently wiped. It had been 
placed in the hands of the police, and submitted to Dr. 
Monaghan, the analyst, for inspection. The result of his 
examination has not yet been published. We may re- 
mark, in conclusion, that Captain Dalton, of the “Dei 
Gratia,’ an able and intelligent seaman, is of the opinion 
that the ‘Marie Celeste’ may have been abandoned a con- 
siderable distance from the spot at which she was picked 
up, since a powerful current runs up in that latitude 
from the African coast. He confesses his inability, how- 
ever, to advance any hypothesis which can reconcile all 
the facts of the case. In the utter absence of a clew or 
grain of evidence, it is to be feared that the fate of the 
crew of the ‘Marie Celeste’ will be added to those num- 
erous mysteries of the deep which will never be solved 
until the great day when the sea shall give up its dead. 
If crime has been committed, as is much to be suspected, 
there is little hope of bringing the perpetrators to justice.” 

I shall supplement this extract from the Gibraltar 
“Gazette” by quoting a telegram from Boston, which 
went the round of the English papers, and represented 
the total amount of information which had been col- 


152 A STUDY IN SCARLET 


lected about the “Marie Celeste.” ‘She was,” it said, | 
“a brigantine of one hundred and seventy tons burden, — 


and belonged to White, Russel & White, wine impor- 
ters, of this city. Captain J. W. Tibbs was an old 
servant of the firm, and was a man of known ability and 
tried probity. He was accompanied by his wife, aged 
thirty-one, and their youngest child, five years old. 
The crew consisted of seven hands, including two colored 
seamen and a boy. There were three passengers, one of 
whom was the well-known Brooklyn specialist on con- 
sumption, Dr. Habakuk Jephson, who was a distinguished 
advocate for Abolition in the early days of the move- 
ment, and whose pamphlet, entitled, ‘Where Is Thy 
Brother exercised a strong influence on public opinion 
before the war. The other passengers were Mr. J. 
Harton, a writer in the employ of the firm, and Mr. 
Septimius Goring, a half-caste gentleman, from New 
Orleans. All investigations have failed to throw any 
light upon the fate of these fourteen human beings. The 


loss of Dr. Jephson will be felt both in political and 


scientific circles.’’ 


I have here epitomized, for the benefit of the public, 


all that has been hitherto known concerning the “Marie 


Celeste” and her crew, for the past ten years have not 


in any way helped to elucidate the mystery. I have now 


taken up my pen with the intention of telling all that I 
know of the ill-fated voyage. I consider that it is a duty | 


which I owe to society, for symptoms which I am familiar 
with in others lead me to believe that before many months 
my tongue and hand may be alike incapable of conveying 
information. Let me remark, as a preface to my narra- 
tive, that I am Joseph Habakuk Jephson, Doctor of 
Medicine of the University of Harvard and ex-Consult- 
ing Physician of the Samaritan Hospital of Brooklyn. 

Many will doubtless wonder why I have not proclaimed 
myself before, and why I have suffered so many conjec- 
tures and surmises to pass unchallenged. Could the ends 
of justice have been served in any way by my revealing 
the facts in my possession I should unhesitatingly have 
done so. It seemed to me, however, that there was no 


‘a 
| 
| 
| 


A STUDY IN SCARLET 153 


possibility of such a result, and when I attempted, after 
the occurrence, to state my case to an English official, I 
was met with such offensive incredulity that I determined 
never again to expose myself to the chance of such an 
indignity. I can excuse the discourtesy of the Liverpool 
magistrate, however, when I reflect upon the treatment 
which I received at the hands of my own relatives, who, 
though they knew my unimpeachable character, listened 
to my statement with an indulgent smile, as if humoring 
the delusion of a monomanic. This slur upon my verac- 
ity led to a quarrel between myself and John Vanbur- 
ger, the brother of my wife, and confirmed me in my 
resolution to let the matter sink into oblivion—a deter- 
mination which I have only altered through my son’s 
solicitations. In order to make my narrative intelligible, 
I must run lightly over one or two incidents in my former 
life which throw light upon subsequent events. 

My father, William K. Jephson, was a preacher of 
the sect called Plymouth Brethern, and was one of the 
most respected citizens of Lowell. Like most of the 
other Puritans of New England, he was a determined 
opponent to slavery, and it was from his lips that I re- 
ceived those lessons which tinged every action of my 
life. While I was studying medicine at Harvard Uni- 
versity I had already made a mark as an advanced 
Abolitionist, and when, after taking my degree, I bought 
a third share of the practice of Dr. Willis, of Brooklyn, 
I managed, in spite of my professional duties, to devote 
a considerable time to the cause which I had at heart, my 
pamphlet, “Where Is Thy Brother?” (Swarburgh, Lister 
& Co., 1859), attracting considerable attention. 

When the war broke out I left Brooklyn and accom- 
panied the One Hundred and Thirteenth New York 
Regiment through the campaign. I was present at the 
second battle of Bull Run and at the battle of Gettys- 
burg. Finally, I was severely wounded at Antietam, and 
would probably have perished on the field had it not been 
for the kindness of a gentleman named Murray, who had 
me carried to his house and provided me with every 
comfort. Thanks to his charity, and to the nursing 


154 A STUDY IN SCARLET 


which I received from his black domestics, I was soon 
able to get about the plantation with the help of a stick. 
It was during this period of convalescence that an in= 
cident occurred which is closely connected with my story, 

Among the most assiduous of the negresses who had 
watched my couch during my illness there was one old 
crone who appeared to exert considerable authority over 
the others. She was exceedingly attentive to me, and I 
gathered from the few words that passed between us 
that she had heard of me, and that she was grateful to 
me for championing her oppressed race. | 

One day as I was sitting alone in the veranda, bask- 
ing in the sun and debating whether I should rejoin 
Grant’s army, I was surprised to see this old creature 
hobbling toward me. After looking cautiously around 
to see that we were alone, she fumbled in the front of — 
her dress and produced a small chamois leather bag 
which was hung round her neck by a white cord. : 

“Massa,” she said, bending down and croaking the 
words into my ear, “me die soon. Me very old woman. 
Not stay long on Massa Murray’s plantation.” | 

“You may live a long time yet, Martha,’ I answered. 
“You know I am a doctor. If you feel ill let me know — 
about it, and I will try to cure you.” 7 

“No wish to live—wish to die. [’m gwine to join the - 
heavenly host.” Here she relapsed into one of those 
half-heathenish thapsodies in which negroes indulge. 
“But, massa, me have one thing must leave behind me 
when I go. No able to take it with me across the Jordan. 
That one thing very precious, more precious and more — 
holy than all things else in the world. Me, a poor old 
black woman, have this because my people very great 
people, ‘spose they was back in the old country. But 
you cannot understand this same as black folk could. 
My fader give it to me, and his fader give it to him, but — 
now who shall I give it to? Poor Martha hab no child, 
no relation, nobody. All round I see black man very bad 
man. Black woman very stupid woman. Nobody worthy 
of the stone. «And so I say, Here is Massa Jephson, who 
‘writes books and fight for colored folk—he must be good — 


A STUDY IN SCARLET 155 


man, and he shall have it, though he is white man and 
can nebber know what it mean or where it came from.” 
Here the old woman fumbled in the chamois leather bag 
and pulled out a flattish black stone with a hole through 
the middle of it. “Here take it,” she said, pressing it 
into my hand; “take it. No harm nebber come from any- 
thing good. Keep it safe—nebber lose it!’ and with a 
warning gesture the old crone hobbled away in the same 
cautious way as she had come, looking from side to side 
to see if we had been observed. 

I was more amused than impressed by the old wo- 
man’s earnestness, and was only prevented from laugh- 
ing during her oration by the fear of hurting her feel- 
ings. When she was gone I took a good look at the 
stone which she had given me. It was intensely black, 
of extreme hardness, and oval in shape—just such a 
flat stone as one would pick up on the seashore if one 
wished to throw a long way. It was about three inches 
long and an inch and a half broad at the middle, but 
rounded off at the extremities. The most curious parts 
about it were several well-marked ridges which ran in 
semicircles over its surface, and gave it exactly the ap- 
pearance of a human ear. Although I was rather in- 
terested in my new possession, and determined to submit 
it, as a geological specimen, to my friend Professor 
Schroeder of the New York Institute, upon the earliest 
opportunity. In the meantime I thrust it into my pocket, 
and rising from my chair started off for a short stroll 
in the shrubbery, dismissing the incident from my mind. 

As my wound had nearly healed by this time I took 
my leave of Mr. Murray shortly afterward. ‘lhe Union 
armies were everywhere victorious and converging on 
Richmond, so that my assistance seemed unnecessary, and 
I returned to Brooklyn. There I resumed my practice, 
and married the second daughter of Josiah Vanburger, 
the well-known wood engraver. In the course of a few 
years I built up a good connection and acquired con- 
siderable reputation in the treatment of pulmonary com- 
plaints. I still kept the old black stone in my pocket, 
and frequently told the story of the dramatic way in 


156 A STUDY IN SCARLET 


my 
which I had become possessed of it. I also kept my 
resolution of showing it to Professor Schroeder, who 
was much interested both by the anecdote and the speci-— 
men. He pronounced it to be a piece of meteoric stone, | 
and drew my attention to the fact that its resemblance 
to an ear was not accidental, but that it was most care-— 
fully worked into that shape. A dozen little anatomical — 
points showed that the worker had been as accurate © 
as he was skilful. “I should not wonder,” said the pro- © 
fessor, “if it were broken off from some larger statue, — 
though how such hard material could be so perfectly © 
worked is more than I can understand. If there is a 
statue to correspond I should like to see it!” So I 
thought at the time, but I have changed my opinion since. © 
The next seven or eight years of my life were quiet 
and uneventful. Summer followed spring, and spring © 
followed winter, without any variation in my duties. © 
As the practice increased I admitted J. S. Jackson as © 
partner, he to have one-fourth of the profits. The con-— 
tinued strain had told upon my constitution, however, — 
and I became at last so unwell that my wife insisted upon 
my consulting Dr. Kavanagh Smith, who was my collea- — 
gue at the Samaritan Hospital. That gentleman ex- © 
amined me, and pronounced the apex of my left lung to © 
be in a state of consolidation, recommending me at the © 
same time to go through a course of medical treatment © 
and to take a long sea voyage. i. 
My own disposition, which is naturally restless, pre- — 
disposed me strongly in favor of the latter piece of ad- — 
vice, and the matter was clinched by my meeting young © 
Russel, of the firm of White, Russel & White, who © 
offered me a passage in one of his father’s ships, the — 
“Marie Celeste,” which was just starting from Bos- © 
ton. “She is a snug little ship,” he said, “and Tibbs, © 
the captain, is an excellent fellow. There is nothing © 
like a sailing ship for an invalid.” I was very much © 
of the same opinion myself, so I closed with the offer on — 
the spot. a 
My original plan was that my wife should accompany ~ 
me upon my travels. She has always been a very poor — 


REX 


Ea 3s pee 


A STUDY IN SCARLET 157 


sailor, however, and there were strong family reasons 
against her exposing herself to any risk at the time, so 
we determined that she should remain at home. I am not 
a religious or an effusive man, but, oh, thank God for 
that! As to leaving my practice, I was easily reconciled 
to it, as Jackson, my partner, was a reliable and hard- 
working man. 

I arrived in Boston on October 12, 1873, and pro- 
ceeded immediately to the office of the firm in order to 
thank them for their courtesy. As I was sitting in the 
counting-house waiting until they should be at liberty 
to see me, the words “Marie Celeste” suddenly attracted 
my attention. I looked around and saw a tall, very gaunt 
man, who was leaning across the polished mahogany 
counter asking some questions of the clerk at the other 
side. His face was turned half toward me, and I could 
see that he had a strong dash of negro blood in him, being 
probably a quadroon, or even nearer akin to the black. 
His curved aquiline nose and straight, lank hair showed 
the white strain; but the dark, restless eyes, sensuous 
mouth and gleaming teeth all told of his African origin. 
His complexion was of a sickly, unhealthy yellow, and 
as his face was deeply pitted with smallpox, the general 
impression was so unfavorable as to be almost revolting. 
When he spoke, however, it was in a soft, melodious 
voice, and in well-chosen words, and he was evidently a 
man of some education. 

“I wished to ask a few questions about the ‘Marie 
Celeste,’ ” he repeated, leaning across to the clerk. “She 
sails the day after to-morrow, does she not?” 

“Yes, sir,’ said the young clerk, awed into unusual 
politeness by the glimmer of a large diamond in the 
stranger’s shirt front. 

“Where is she bound for?” 

“Lisbon.” 

“How many of a crew?” 

“Seven, sir.” 

“Passengers ?” 

“Yes, two; one of our young gentlemen and a doc- 
tor from New York.” 


158 A STUDY IN SCARLET 


“No gentleman from the South?” asked the stranger — 
eagerly. a 
“No, none, sir.” 
“Ts there room for another passenger?” » 
“Accommodation for three more,” answered the clerk. © 
“T’ll go,” said the quadroon decisively; “Ill go; Vl 
engage my passage at once. Put it down, will you— Mr. — 
Septimius Goring, of New Orleans.” | 
The clerk filled up a form and handed it over to the 
stranger, pointing to a blank space at the bottom. As 
Mr. Goring stooped over to sign it I was horrified to — 
observe that the fingers of his right hand had been lopped | 
off, and that he was holding the pen between his thumb 
and the palm. I have seen thousands slain in battle, and 
assisted at every conceivable surgical operation, but [I 
cannot recall any sight which gave me such a thrill of 
disgust as that great, brown, sponge-like hand, with the 
single member protruding from it. He used it skillfully 
enough, however, for, dashing off his signature, he nodded 
to the clerk and strolled out of the office just as Mr. 
White sent out word that he was ready to receive me. 
I went down to the “Marie Celeste” that evening and — 
looked over my berth, which was extremely comfortable, © 
considering the small size of the vessel. Mr. Goring, 
whom I had seen in the morning, was to have the one 
next mine. Opposite was the captain’s cabin and a ~ 
small berth for Mr. John Harton, a gentleman who was 
going out in the interests of the firm. These little rooms 
were arranged on each side of the passage which led 
from the main deck to the saloon. The latter was a 
comfortable room, the paneling tastefully done in oak 
and mahogany, with a rich Brussels carpet and luxurious 
settees. I was very much pleased with the accommoda- 
tion, and also with Tibbs, the captain, a bluff, sailor-like 
fellow, with a loud voice and hearty manner, who wel- 
comed me to the ship with effusion, and insisted upon our 
splitting a bottle of wine in his cabin. He told me that 
he intended to take his wife and youngest child with him 
on the voyage, and that he hoped with good luck to make © 
Lisbon in three weeks. We had a pleasant chat and © 


A STUDY IN SCARLET 159 


parted the best of friends, he warning me to make the last 
of my preparations next morning, as he intended to make 
a start by the midday tide, having now shipped all his 
cargo. I went back to my ‘hotel, where I found a letter 
from my wife awaiting me, and, after a refreshing 
night’s sleep, returned to the boat in the morning. From 
this point I am able to quote from the journal which I kept 
in order to vary the monotony of the long sea voyage. 
If it is somewhat bald in places I can at least rely upon 
its accuracy in details, as it was written conscientiously 
from day to day. 

October 16.—Cast off our warps at half-past two and 
were towed out into the bay, where the tug left us, and 
with all sail set we bowled along at about nine knots 
an hour. I stood upon the poop watching the low land 
of America sinking gradually upon the horizon until the 
evening haze hid it from my sight. A single red light, 
however, continued to blaze balefully behind us, throw- 
ing a long track like a trail of blood upon the water, and 
it is still visible as I write, though reduced to a mere 
speck. The captain is in a bad humor, for two of his 
hands disappointed him at the last moment, and he was 
compelled to ship a couple of negroes who happened to 
be on the quay. The missing men were steady, reliable 
fellows, who had been with him several voyages, and 
their non-appearance puzzled as well as irritated him. 
Where a crew of seven men have to work a fair sized 
ship the loss of two experienced seamen is a serious one, 
for though the negroes may take a spell at the wheel or 
swab the decks, they are of little or no use in rough 
weather. Our cook is also a black man, and Mr. Septi- 
mius Goring has a little darky servant, so that we are 
rather a piebald community. The accountant, John Har- 
ton, promises to be an acquisition, for he is a cheery, 
amusing young fellow. Strange how little wealth has to 
do with happiness! He has all the world before him 
and is seeking his fortune in a far land, yet he is as 
transparently happy as a man can be. Goring is rich, 
if I am not mistaken, and so am J; but I know that I 
have a lung, and Goring has some "deeper trouble still, 


160 A STUDY IN SCARLET 1: 
to judge by his features. How poorly do we both con- F 
trast with the careless, penniless clerk! i 
October 17—Mrs. Tibbs appeared upon deck for the © 
first time this morning—a cheerful, energetic woman, — 
with a dear little child just able to walk and prattle. 
Young Harton pounced on it at once and carried it away 
to his cabin, where no doubt he will lay the seeds of © 
future dyspepsia in the child’s stomach. Thus medicine 
doth make cynics of us all! The weather is still all that 
could be desired, with a fine, fresh breeze from the west- 
sou’'west. The vessel goes so steadily that you would 
hardly know that she was moving were it not for the 
creaking of the cordage, the bellying of the sails and the 
long white furrow in our wake. Walked the quarter- 
deck all the morning with the captain, and I think the ~ 
keen fresh air has already done my breathing good, for — 
the exercise did not fatigue me in any way. Tibbs is a — 
remarkably intelligent man, and we had an interesting — 
argument about Maury’s observations on ocean currents, © 
which we terminated by going down into his cabin to 
consult the original work. There we found Goring, © 
rather to the captain’s surprise, as it is not usual for 
passengers to enter that sanctum unless specially invited. 
He apologized for his intrusion, however, pleading his— 
ignorance of the usages of ship life, and the good natured 
sailor simply laughed at the incident, begging him to re- 
main and favor us with his company. Goring pointed — 
to the chronometers, the case of which he had opened, 
and remarked that he had been admiring them. He has 
evidently some practical knowledge of mathematical 
instruments, as he told at a glance which was the most 
trustworthy of the three, and also named their price with- — 
in a few dollars. He had a discussion with the captain, 
too, upon the variation of the compass, and when we — 
came back to the ocean currents he showed a thorough | 
grasp of the subject. Altogether he rather improves 
upon acquaintance, and is a man of decided culture and — 
refinement. His voice harmonizes with his conversation, — 
and both are the very antitheses of his face and figure. 
The noonday observation shows that we have run two ~ 


A STUDY IN SCARLET 161 


hundred and twenty miles. Toward evening the breeze 
freshened up, and the first mate ordered reefs to be taken 
in the topsails and top-gallant sails in expectation of a 
windy night. I observe that the barometer has fallen to 
twenty-nine. I trust our voyage will not be a rough one, 
as | am a poor sailor and my health would probably 
derive more harm than good from a stormy trip, though 
I have the greatest confidence in the captain’s seaman- 
ship and in the soundness of the vessel. Played crib- 
bage with Mrs. Tibbs after supper, and Harton gave us 
a couple of tunes on the violin. 

October 18—The gloomy prognostications of last 
night were not fulfilled, as the wind died away again, and 
we are lying now in a long, greasy swell, ruffled here 
and there by a fleeting catspaw which is insufficient to 
fill the sails. The air is colder than it was yesterday, 
and I have put on one of the thick woollen jerseys which 
my wife knitted for me. Harton came into my cabin in 
the morning, and we had a cigar together. He says that 
he remembers having seen Goring in Cleveland, Ohio, in 
69. He was, it appears, a mystery then as now, wan- 
dering about without any visible employment, and ex- 
tremely reticent on his own affairs. The man interests 
me as a psychological study. At breakfast this morning 
I suddenly had that vague feeling of uneasiness which 
comes over some people when closely stared at, and, 
looking quickly up, I met his eyes bent up me with an 
intensity which amounted to ferocity, though their ex- 
pression instantly softened as he made some conven- 
tional remark upon the weather. Curiously enough, 
Harton says that he had a very similar experience yes- 
terday upon deck. I observe that Goring frequently talks 
to the colored seamen as he strolls about—a trait which 
I rather admire, as it is common to find half-breeds ig- 
nore their dark strain and treat their black kinsfolk with 
greater intolerance than a white man would do. His 
little page is devoted to him, apparently, which speaks 
well for his treatment of him. Altogether the man is 
a curious mixture of incongruous qualities, and unless 


162 A STUDY IN SCARLET 


I am deceived in him will give me food for observation 
during the voyage. q 

The captain is grumbling about his chronometers, which - 
do not register exactly the same time. He says 1t 1s the 
first time that they have ever disagreed. We were un- 
able to get a noonday observation on account of the haze. 
By dead reckoning we have done about a hundred and 
seventy miles in the twenty-four hours. The dark seamen 
have proved, as the skipper prophesied, to be very inferior 
hands, but as they can both manage the wheel well they 
are kept steering, and so leave the more experienced men 
to work the ship. These details are trivial enough, but 
a little thing serves as food for gossip aboard ship. The 
appearance of a whale in the evening caused quite a flutter 
among us. From its sharp back and forked tail I should 
pronounce it to have been a rorqual, or “finner,”’ as they 
are called by the fishermen. 

October 19.—Wind was cold, so I prudently remained 
in my cabin all day, only creeping out for dinner. Lying © 
in my bunk I can, without moving, reach my books, pipes, — 
or anything else I may want, which is one advantage of a 
small apartment. My old wound began to ache a little to- 
day, probably from the cold. Read “Montaigne’s Es- — 
says” and nursed myself. Harton came in in the after- © 
noon with Doddy, the captain’s child, and the skipper him- 
self followed, so that I held quite a reception. 

October 20 and 21.—Still cold, with a continual drizzle 
of rain, and I have not been able to leave the cabin. 
This confinement makes me feel weak and depressed. 
Goring came in to see me, but his company did not tend 
to cheer me up much, as he hardly uttered a word, but 
contented himself with staring at me in a peculiar and 
rather irritating manner. He then got up and stole out 
of the cabin without saying anything. I am beginning to 
suspect that the man is a lunatic. I think I mentioned that 
his cabin is next to mine. The two are simply divided 
by a thin wooden partition which is cracked in many 
places, some of the cracks being so large that I can hardly 
avoid, as I lie in my bunk, observing his motions in the 
adjoining room. Without any wish to play the spy, I see 


A STUDY IN SCARLET 163 


him continually stooping over what appears to be a chart 
and working with a pencil and compass. I have remarked 
the interest he displays in matters connected with naviga- 
tion, but I am surprised that he should take the trouble to 
work out the course of the ship. However, it is a harm- 
less amusement enough, and no doubt he verifies his re- 
sults by those of the captain. 

I wish the man did not run in my thoughts so much. 
I had a nightmare on the 20th, in which I thought my bunk 
was a coffin, that I was laid out in it, and that Goring was 
endeavoring to nail up the lid, which I was frantically 
pushing away. Even when I woke up I could hardly 
persuade myself that I was not ina coffin. As a medical 
man I know that a nightmare is simply a vascular de- 
rangement of the cerebral hemispheres, and yet in my 
weak state I cannot shake off the morbid impression which 
it produces. 

October 22.—A fine day, with hardly a cloud in the sky, 
and a fresh breeze from the sou’west which wafts us gayly 
on our way. There has evidently been some heavy weather 
near us, as there is a tremendous swell on, and the ship 
lurches until the end of the foreyard nearly touches the 
water. Had a refreshing walk up and down the quarter- 
deck, though I have hardly found my sea-legs yet. Sev- 
eral small birds—chaffinches, I think—perched in the 
rigging. 

4.40 P. M.—While I was on deck this morning I heard 
a sudden explosion from the direction of my cabin, and, 
hurrying down, found that I had very nearly met with a 
serious accident. Goring was cleaning a revolver, it 
seems, in his cabin, when one of the barrels which he 
thought was unloaded went off. The ball passed through 
the side partition and imbedded itself in the bulwarks 
in the exact place where my head usually rests. I have 
been under fire too often to magnify trifles, but there is 
no doubt if I had been in the bunk it must have killed me. 
Goring, poor fellow, did not know that I had gone on 
deck that day, and must therefore have felt terribly fright- 
ened. I never saw such emotion in a man’s face as when, 
on rushing out of his cabin with the smoking pistol in 


164 A STUDY IN SCARLET 


his hand, he met me face to face as I came down from. 
the deck. Of course he was profuse in his apologies, 
though I simply laughed at the incident. fs 
11 P. MA misfortune has occurred so unexpected 
and so horrible that my little escape of the morning 
dwindles into insignificance. Mrs. Tibbs and her child 
have disappeared—utterly and entirely disappeared. I 
can hardly compose myself to write the sad details. About 
half-past eight Tibbs rushed into my cabin with a very 
white face and asked me if I had seen his wife. I an-— 
swered that I had not. He then ran wildly into the 
saloon and began groping about for any trace of her, 
while I followed him, endeavoring vainly to persuade 
him that his fears were ridiculous. We hunted over the 
ship for an hour and a half without coming on any sign 
of the missing woman or child. Poor Tibbs lost his voice 
completely from calling her name. Even the sailors, who 
are generally stolid enough, were deeply affected by the 
sight of him as he roamed bareheaded and disheveled 
about the deck, searching with feverish anxiety the most 
impossible places, and returning to them again and again 
with a piteous pertinacity. The last time she was seen 
was about seven o’clock, when she took Doddy on the 
poop to give him a breath of fresh air before putting 
him to bed. There was no one there at the time except © 
the black seaman at the wheel, who denies having seen 
her at all. The whole affair is wrapped i in mystery. My 
own theory is that while Mrs. Tibbs was holding the 
child and standing near the bulwarks it gave a spring 
and fell overboard, and that in her convulsive attempt 
to catch or save it, she followed it. I cannot account 
for the double disappearance in any other way. It is quite 
feasible that such a tragedy should be enacted without 
the knowledge of the man at the wheel, since it was dark 
at the time, and the peaked skylights of the saloon screen 
the greater part of the quarter-deck. Whatever the truth 
may be it is a horrible catastrophe, and has cast the dark- 
est gloom upon our voyage. The mate has put the ship 
about, but of course there is not the slightest hope of | 
picking them up. The captain is lying in a state of stupor 


A STUDY IN SCARLET 165 


in his cabin. I gave him a powerful dose of opium in 
his coffee, that for a few hours at least his anguish may 
be deadened. 

October 23.—Woke with a vague feeling of heaviness 
and misfortune, but it was not until after a few moments’ 
reflection that I was able to recall our loss of the night 
before. When I came on deck I saw the poor skipper 
standing gazing .back at the waste of waters behind us, 
which contains everything dear to him upon earth. I 
attempted to speak to him, but he turned brusquely away, 
and began pacing the deck with his head sunk upon his 
breast. Even now, when the truth is so clear, he cannot 
: a boat or an unbent sail without peering under it. 

e looks ten years older than he did yesterday morning. 
Harton is terribly cut up, for he was fond of little Doddy, 
and Goring seems sorry, too. At least he has shut himself 
up in his cabin all day, and when I got a casual glance at 
him his head was resting on his two hands, as if ina 
melancholy reverie. I fear we are about as dismal a crew 
as ever sailed. How shocked my wife will be to hear of 
our disaster! The swell has gone down now, and we are 
doing about eight knots with all sail set and a nice little 
breeze. Hyson is practically in command of the ship, as 
Tibbs, though he does his best to bear up and keep a brave 
front, is incapable of applying himself to serious work. 

October 24.—Is the ship accursed? Was there ever 
a voyage which began so fairly and which changed so 
disastrously? ‘Tibbs shot himself through the head during 
the night! I was awakened about three o’clock in the 
morning by an explosion, and immediately sprang out of 
bed and rushed into the captain’s cabin to find out the 
cause, though with a terrible presentiment in my heart. 
Quickly as I went, Goring went more quickly still, for 
he was already in the cabin stooping over the dead body 
of the captain. It was a hideous sight, for the whole 
front of his face was blown in, and the little room was 
Swimming in blood. The pistol was lying beside him on 
the floor, just as it had dropped from his hand. He had 
evidently put it to his mouth before pulling the trigger. 
Goring and I picked him reverently up and laid him on 


166 A STUDY IN SCARLET 


his bed. The crew had all clustered into his cabin, and 
the six white men were deeply grieved, for they were 
old hands who had sailed with him many years. There 
were dark looks and murmurs among them, too, and one 
of them openly declared that the ship was haunted. Har- 
ton helped to lay the poor skipper out, and we did him 
up in canvas between us. At twelve o'clock the fore- 
yard was hauled aback, and we committed his body to 
the deep, Goring reading the Church of England burial 
service. The breeze has freshened up, and we have done 
ten knots all day and sometimes twelve. The sooner we 
reach Lisbon and get away from this accursed ship the 
better pleased shall I be. I feel as though we were in 
a floating coffin. Little wonder that the poor sailors are 
superstitious when I, an educated man, feel it so strongly. 

October 25.—Made a good run all day. Feel listless 
and depressed. 

October 26.—Goring, Harton and I had a chat to- 
gether on the deck this morning. Harton tried to draw 
Goring out as to his profession and his object in going 
to Europe, but the quadroon parried all his questions and 
gave us no information. Indeed, he seemed to be slightly 
offended by Harton’s pertinacity, and went down into his 
cabin. I wonder why we should both take such an interest 
in this man! I suppose it is his striking appearance, 
coupled with his apparent wealth, which piques our cu- 
riosity. Harton has a theory that he is really a detective, 
that he is after some criminal who has got away to Por- 
tugal, and that he chooses this peculiar way of traveling. 
that he may arrive unnoticed and pounce upon his quarry 
unawares. I think the supposition is rather a far-fetched 
one, but Harton bases it upon a book which Goring left 
on deck, and which he picked up and glanced over. It 
was a sort of scrap-book, it seems, and contained a large 
number of newspaper cuttings. All these cuttings related 
to murders which had been committed at various times 
in the States during the last twenty years or so. The 
curious thing which Harton observed about them, how- 
ever, was that they were invariably murders the authors 
of which had never been brought to justice. They varied 


A STUDY IN SCARLET 167; 


in every detail, he says, as to the manner of execution 
and the social status of the victim, but they uniformly 
wound up with the same formula that the murderer was 
still at large, though, of course, the police had every rea- 
son to expect his speedy capture. Certainly the incident 
seems to support Harton’s theory, though it may be a 
mere whim of Goring’s, or, as I suggested to Harton, 
he may be collecting materials for a book which shall 
outvie De Quincey. In any case it is no business of ours. 

October 27, 28.—Wind still fair, and we are making 
good progress. Strange how easily a human unit may 
drop out of its place and be forgotten! ‘Tibbs is hardly 
ever mentioned now; Hyson has taken possession of his 
cabin, and all goes on as before. Were it not for Mrs. 
Tibbs’ sewing-machine upon a side table we might forget 
that the unfortunate family had ever existed. Another 
accident occurred on board to-day, though fortunately 
not a very serious one. One of our white hands had 
gone down the after-hold to fetch a spare coil of rope, 
when one of the hatches which he had removed came 
crashing down on the top of him. He saved his life by 
springing out of the way, but one of his feet was terribly 
crushed, and he will be of little use for the remainder of 
the voyage. He attributes the accident to the carelessness 
of his negro companion, who had helped him to shift the 
hatches. The latter, however, puts it down to the roll of 
the ship. Whatever the cause, it reduces our short-handed 
crew still further. This run of ill-luck seems to be de- 
pressing Harton, for he has lost his usual good spirits and 
joviality. Goring is the only one who preserves his cheer- 
fulness. I see him still working at his chart in his own 
cabin. His nautical knowledge would be useful should 
anything happen to Hyson—which God forbid! 

October 29, 30.—Still bowling along with a fresh 
breeze. All quiet and nothing of note to chronicle. 

_ October 31—My weak lungs, combined with the ex- 
citing episodes of the voyage, have shaken my nervous 
system so much that the most trivial incident affects me. 
I can hardly believe that I am the same man who tied 
the external iliac artery, an operation requiring the nicest 


168 A STUDY IN SCARLET 


precision, under a heavy rifle fire at Antietam. I am as © 
nervous as a child. I was lying half dozing last night — 
about four bells in the middle watch, trying in vain to — 
drop into a refreshing sleep. There was no light inside — 
my cabin, but a single ray of moonlight streamed in © 
through the porthole, throwing a silvery, flickering circle — 
upon the door. As I lay I kept my drowsy eyes upon — 
this circle, and was conscious that it was gradually be-— 
coming less well defined as my senses left me, when I 
was suddenly recalled to full wakefulness by the appear- — 
ance of a small dark object in the very center of the © 
luminous disk. I lay quietly and breathlessly watching it. — 
Gradually it grew plainer and larger, and then I perceived 
that it was a human hand which had been cautiously in- — 
serted through the chink of the half-closed door—a hand — 
which, as I observed with a thrill of horror, was not pro- — 
vided with fingers. The door swung cautiously backward — 


and Goring’s head followed his hand. It appeared in the 
center of the moonlight, and was framed, as it were, in a 


ghastly, uncertain halo, against which his features showed 
out plainly. It seemed to me that I had never seen such © 
an utterly fiendish and merciless expression upon a human © 
face. His eyes were dilated and glaring, his lips drawn — 
back so as to show his white fangs, and his straight © 


black hair appeared to bristle over his low forehead like 
the hood of a cobra. The sudden and noiseless appari- 


tion had such an effect upon me that I sprang up in bed 

trembling in every limb, and held out my hand toward my — 
revolver. I was heartily ashamed of my hastiness when — 
he explained the object of his intrusion, as he immediately © 


did in the most courteous language. He had been suffer- 


ing from toothache, poor fellow! and had come in to — 


beg some laudanum, knowing that I possessed a medicine 
chest. As to a sinister expression, he is never a beauty, 
and what with my state of nervous tension and the effect 


of the shifting moonlight it was easy to conjure up some- | 


thing horrible. 1 gave him twenty drops, and he went 
off again with many expressions of gratitude. I can 
hardly say how much this trivial incident affected me; 
I have felt unstrung all day. 


A STUDY IN SCARLET 169 


A week’s record of our voyage is here omitted, as noth- 
ing eventful occurred during the time, and my log con- 
sists merely of a few pages of unimportant gossip. 

November 7.—Harton and [I sat on the poop all the 
morning, for the weather is becoming very warm as we 
come into southern latitudes. We reckon that we have 
done two-thirds of our voyage. How glad we shail be to 
see the green banks of the Tagus, and leave this unlucky 
ship forever! 1 was endeavoring to amuse Harton to-day, 
and to while away the time by telling him some of the ex- 
periences of my past life. Among others I related to him 
how I came into the possession of my black stone, and as 
a finale I rummaged in the side pocket of my old shoot- 
ing coat and finally produced the identical object in ques- 
tion. He and I were bending over it together, I pointing 
out to him the curious ridges upon its surface, when we 
were conscious of a shadow falling between us and the 
sun, and looking round saw Goring standing behind us 
glaring over our shoulders at the stone. For some reason 
or other he appeared to be powerfully excited, though 
he was evidently trying to control himself and to conceal 
his emotion. He pointed once or twice at my relic with 
his stubby thumb before he could recover himself suffi- 
ciently to ask what it was and how I obtained it—a ques- 
tion put in such a brusque manner that I should have 
been offended had I not known the man to be an eccen- 
tric. I told him the story very much as I had told it to 
Harton. He listened with the deepest interest, and then 
asked me if I had any idea what the stone was. I said 
I had not, beyond that it was meteoric. He asked me if 
I had ever tried its effect upon a negro. I said I had not. 
“Come,” said he, “‘we’ll see what our black friend at the 
wheel thinks of it.” He took the stone in his hand and 
went across to the sailor, and the two examined it care- 
fully. I could see the man gesticulating and nodding his 
head excitedly, as if making some assertion, while his face 
betrayed the utmost astonishment, mixed, I think, with 
some reverence. Goring came across the deck to us pres- 
ently, still holding the stone in his hand. “He says it is 
a worthless, useless thing,” he said, “and fit only to be 


170 A STUDY IN SCARLET 


chucked overboard,” with which he raised his hand and 
would most certainly made an end of my relic had the 
black sailor behind him not rushed forward and seized 
him by the wrist. Finding himself secured, Goring 
dropped the stone and turned away with a very bad grace 
to avoid my angry remonstrances at his breach of faith. 
The black picked up the stone and handed it to me with 
a low bow and every sign of profound respect. The 
whole affair is inexplicable. I am rapidly coming to the 
conclusion that Goring is a maniac, or something very 
near one. When I compare the effect produced by the 
stone upon the sailor, however, with the respect shown 
to Martha on the plantation, and the surprise of Goring 
on its first production, I cannot but come to the conclusion 
that I have really got hold of some powerful talisman 
which appeals to the whole dark race. I must not trust 
it in Goring’s hands again. 

November 8, 9.—What splendid weather we are hav- | 
ing. Beyond one little blow we have had nothing but 
fresh breezes the whole voyage. These two days we have 
made better runs than any hitherto. It is a pretty thing 
to watch the spray fly up from our prow as it cuts through 
the waves. The sun shines through it and breaks it up 
into a number of miniature rainbows—“sun-dogs,” the 
sailors call them. I stood on the fo’csle-head for several 
hours to-day watching the effect, and surrounded by a 
halo of prismatic colors. The steersman had evidently 
told the other blacks about my wonderful stone, for I am 
treated by them all with the greatest respect. Talking 
about optical phenomena, we had a curious one yesterday 
evening which was pointed out to me by Hyson. This was 
the appearance of a triangular, well-defined object high 
up in the heavens to the north of us. He explained that 
it was exactly like the Peak of Teneriffe as seen from a 
great distance—the peak was, however, at that moment 
at least five hundred miles to the south. It may have 
been a cloud, or it may have been one of those strange 
reflections of which one reads. The weather is very 
warm. ‘The mate says that he never knew it so warm in 
these latitudes. Played chess with Harton in the evening. 


A STUDY IN SCARLET 171 


November 10.—It is getting warmer and warmer. 
Some land birds came and perched in the rigging to-day, 
though we are still a considerable way from our destina- 
tion. The heat is so great that we are too lazy to do 
anything but lounge about the decks and smoke. Goring 
came over to me to-day and asked me some more ques- 
tions about my stone, but I answered him rather shortly, 
for I have not quite forgiven him yet for the cool way 
in which he attempted to deprive me of it. 

November 11, 12.—Still making good progress. I had 
no idea Portugal was ever as hot as this, but no doubt 
it is cooler on land. Hyson himself seemed surprised at 
it, and so do the men. 

November 13.—A most extraordinary event has hap- 
pened—so extraordinary as to be almost inexplicable. 
Either Hyson has blundered wonderfully, or some mag- 

“netic influence has disturbed our instruments. Just about 
daylight the watch on the fo’csle-head shouted out that 
he heard the sound of surf ahead, and Hyson thought he 
saw the loom of land. The ship was put about, and, 
though no lights were seen, none of us doubted that we 
had struck the Portuguese coast a little sooner than we had 
expected. What was our surprise to see the scene which 
was revealed to us at- break of day! As far as we could 
look on either side was one long line of surf, great green 
billows rolling in and breaking into a cloud of foam. 
But behind the surf what was there! Not the green 
banks nor the high cliffs of the shores of Portugal, but 
a great sandy waste which stretched away and away until 
it blended with the sky-line. To right and left, look where 
you would, there was nothing but yellow sand, heaped in 
some places into fantastic mounds, some of them several 
hundred feet high, while in other parts were long stretches 
as level, apparently, as a billiard-board. Harton and I, 
who had come on deck together, looked at each other in 
astonishment, and Harton burst out laughing. Hyson is 
exceedingly mortified at the occurrence, and protests that 
the instruments have been tampered with. There is no 
doubt that this is the mainland of Africa, and that it 
was really the Peak of Teneriffe which we saw some 


172 A STUDY IN SCARLET 


days ago upon the northern horizon. At the time when we 
saw the land birds we must have been passing some of the 
Canary Islands. If we continued on the same course 
we are now to the north of Cape Blanco, near the un-— 
explored country which skirts the great Sahara. All we 
can do is to rectify our instruments as far as possible and — 
start afresh for our destination. 
8.30 P. M.—Have been lying in a calm all day. The 
coast is now about a mile and a half from us. Hyson 
has examined the instruments, but cannot find any cause 
for their extraordinary deviation. | 
This is the end of my private journal, and I must make © 
the remainder of my statement from memory. There is - 
little chance of my being mistaken about facts which have > 
seared themselves into my recollection. That very night | 
the storm which had been brewing so long burst over us, 
and I came to learn whither all those little incidents were 
tending which I had recorded so aimlessly. Blind fool that 
I was not to have seen it sooner! I shall tell what oc- 
curred as precisely as I can. | 
I had gone into my cabin about half-past eleven, and 
was preparing to go to bed, when a tap came at my door. © 
‘On opening it I saw Goring’s little black page, who told 
me that his master would like to have a word with me 
on deck. I was rather surprised that he should want me 
at such a. late hour, but I went up without hesitation. I 
had hardly put my foot on the quarter-deck before I was 
seized from behind, dragged down upon my back, and a 
handkerchief slipped round my mouth. I struggled as 
hard as I could, but a coil of rope was rapidly and firmly 
wound round me, and I found myself lashed to the davit 
of one of the boats, uterly powerless to do or say any- 
thing, while the point of a knife pressed to my throat 
warned me to cease my struggles. The night was so dark 
that I had been unable hitherto to recognize my assailants, 
but as my eyes became accustomed to the gloom, and the 
moon broke out through the clouds that obscured it, I 
made out that I was surrounded by the two negro sailors, 
the black cook, and my fellow-passenger, Goring. An- 


A STUDY IN SCARLET 173 


other man was crouching on the deck at my foot, but he 
was in the shadow and I could not recognize him. 

All this occurred so rapidly that a minute could hardly 
have elapsed from the time 1 mounted the companion un- 
til I found myself gagged and powerless. It was so 
sudden that I could scarce bring myself to realize it, or 
to comprehend what it all meant. I heard the gang round 
me speaking in short, fierce whispers to each other, and 
some instinct told me that my life was the question at 
issue. Goring spoke authoritatively and angrily—the 
others doggedly and all together, as if disputing his com- 
mands. Then they moved away in a body to the oppo- 
site side of the deck, where I could still hear them whis- 
pering, though they were concealed from my view by 
the saloon skylights. 

All this time the voices of the watch on deck chatting 
and laughing at the other end of the ship were distinctly 
audible, and I could see them gathered in a group, little 
dreaming of the dark doings which were going on within 
thirty yards of them. Oh! that I could have given them 
one word of warning, even though I had lost my life 
in doing it; but it was impossible. The moon was shin- 
ing fitfully through the scattered clouds, and I could see 
the silvery gleam of the surge, and beyond it the vast, 
weird desert with its fantastic sand-hills. Glancing 
down, I saw that the man who had been crouching on 
the deck was still lying there, and as I gazed at him a 
flickering ray of moonlight fell full upon his upturned 
face. Great heaven! even now, when more than twelve 
years have elapsed, my hand trembles as I write that, in 
spite of distorted features and projecting eyes, I recog- 
nized the face of Harton, the cheery young clerk who had 
been my companion during the voyage. It needed no 
medical eye to see that he was quite dead, while the 
twisted handkerchief round the neck and the gag in his 
mouth showed the silent way in which the hell-hounds 
had done their work. The clue which explained every 
event of our voyage came upon me like a flash of light 
as I gazed on poor Harton’s corpse. Much was dark and 


174 A STUDY IN SCARLET 


unexplained, but I felt a great dim perception of the 
truth. 

I heard the striking of a match at the other side of the 
skylight, and then I saw the tall, gaunt figure of Goring 
standing up on the bulwarks and holding in his hands 
what appeared to be a dark-lantern. He lowered this 
for a moment over the side of the ship, and, to my in- 
expressible astonishment, I saw it answered instantan- 
eously by a flash among the sand-hills on the shore, which 
came and went so rapidly that unless I had been following 
the direction of Goring’s gaze I should never have detected 
it. Again he lowered the lantern, and again it was an- 
swered from the shore. He then stepped down from the 
bulwarks, and in doing so slipped, making such a noise 
that for a moment my heart bounded with the thought 
that the attention of the watch would be directed to his 
proceedings. It was a vain hope. The night was calm 
and the ship motionless, so that no idea of duty kept them 
vigilant. Hyson, who after the death of Tibbs was in 
command of both watches, had gone below to snatch a 
few hours’ sleep, and the boatswain who was left in charge 
was standing with the other two men at the foot of the 
foremast. Powerless, speechless, with the cords cutting 
into my flesh and the murdered man at my feet, I awaited 
the next act in the tragedy. 

The four ruffans were standing up now at the other 
side of the deck. The cook was armed with some sort 
of a cleaver, the others had knives, and Goring had a 
revolver. They were all leaning against the rail and look- 
ing out over the water as if watching for something. I 
saw one of them grasp another’s arm and point as if at 
some object, and following the direction I made out the 
loom of a large moving mass making toward the ship. 
As it emerged from the gloom I saw that it was a great 
canoe crammed with men and propelled by at least a 
score of paddles. As it shot under our stern the watch 
caught sight of it also, and raising a cry hurried aft. They 
were too late, however. A swarm of gigantic negroes 
clambered over the quarter, and, led by Goring, swept 
down the deck in an irresistible torrent. All opposition 


A STUDY IN SCARLET 175 


was overpowered in a moment, the unarmed watch were 
knocked over and bound, and the sleepers dragged out 
of their bunks and secured in the same manner. Hyson 
made an attempt to defend the narrow passage leading 
to his cabin, and I heard a scuffle, and his voice shouting 
for assistance. ‘There was none to assist, however, and 
he was brought onto the poop with the blood streaming 
from a deep cut in his forehead. He was gagged like 
the others, and a council was held upon our fate by the 
negroes. I saw our black seamen pointing toward me 
and making some statement, which was received with 
murmurs of astonishment and incredulity by the savages. 
One of them came over to me, and plunging his hand 
into my pocket took out my black stone and held it up. 
He then handed it to a man who appeared to be a chief, 
who examined it as minutely as the light would permit, 
and, muttering a few words, passed it on to the warrior 
beside him, who also scrutinized it and passed it on, until 
it had gone from hand to hand round the whole circle. 
The chief then said a few words to Goring in the native 
tongue, on which the quadroon addressed me in English. 
At this moment I seem to see the scene. The tall masts 
of the ship with the moonlight streaming down, silvering 
the yards and bringing the network of cordage into hard 
relief; the group of dusky warriors leaning on their 
spears; the dead man at my feet; the line of white-faced 
prisoners, and in front of me the loathsome half-breed, 
looking, in his white linen and elegant clothes, a strange 
contrast to his associates. 

“You will bear me witness,” he said in his softest 
accents, “that I am no party to sparing your life. If it 
rested with me you would die as these other men are 
about to do. I have no personal grudge against either 
you or them, but I have devoted my life to the destruction 
of the white race, and you are the first that has ever 
been in my power and has escaped me. You may thank 
that stone of yours for your life. These poor fellows 
reverence it, and, indeed, if it really be what they think 
it is, they have cause. Should it prove when we get ashore 
that they are mistaken, and that its shape and material 


176 A STUDY IN SCARLET 


ST PD 


is a mere chance, nothing can save your life. In the 
meantime we wish to treat you well, so if there are any of 


* 
; 
Pin 
ix 


et 


ci 


Mi 
is 
£ 

igh 
A 


your possessions which you would like to take with you, 


you are at liberty to get them.” As he finished he gave © 
a sign, and a couple of the negroes unbound me, though © 
without removing the gag. I was led down into the cabin, — 
where I put a few valuables into my pockets, together — 
with a pocket-compass and my journal of the voyage. — 
They then pushed me over the side into a small canoe, ~ 
which was lying beside the large one, and my guards fol- © 
lowed me, and shoving off began paddling for the shore. — 
We had got about a hundred yards or so from the ship © 
when our steersman held up his hand, and the paddlers — 
paused for a moment and listened. Then on the silence © 
of the night I heard a sort of dull, moaning sound, fol- — 
lowed by a succession of splashes in the water. That is — 
all I know of the fate of my poor shipmates. Almost — 
immediately afterward the large canoe followed us, and © 
the deserted ship was left drifting about—a dreary, © 
specter-like hulk. Nothing was taken from her by the © 
savages. The whole fiendish transaction was carried — 
through as decorously and temperately as though it were © 


a religious rite. 
The first gray of daylight was visible in the east as 


we passed through the surge and reached the shore. © 


Leaving half a dozen men with the canoes, the rest of 
the negroes set off through the sand-hills, leading me 
with them, but treating me very gently and respectfully. 
It was difficult walking, as we sunk over our ankles into 


the loose, shifting sand at every step, and I was nearly — 


dead beat by the time we reached the native village, or 
town rather, for it was a place of considerable dimensions, 


The houses were conical structures, not unlike bee-hives, © 


and were made of compressed seaweed cemented over 
with a rude form of mortar, there being neither stick nor 


stone upon the coast nor anywhere within many hun- © 
dreds of miles. As we entered the town an enormous — 
crowd of both sexes came swarming out to meet us, beat- — 


ing tom-toms and howling and screaming. On seeing me 


they redoubled their yells and assumed a threatening atti- — 


A STUDY IN SCARLET 177 


| Giant was instantly quelled by a few words shouted 
by my escort. A buzz of wonder succeeded the war- 
cries and yells of the moment before, and the whole dense 
mass proceeded down the broad central street of the town, 
having my escort and myself in the center. 

My statement hitherto may seem so strange as to 
excite doubt in the minds of those who do not know me, 
but it was the fact which I am now about to relate which 
caused my own brother-in-law to insult me by. disbelief. 
I can but relate the occurrence in the simplest words, and 
trust to chance and time to prove their truth. In the cen- 
ter of this main street there was a large building, formed 
in the same primitive way as the others, but towering 
high above them; a stockade of beautifully polished ebony 
rails was planted all round it, the framework of the door 
was formed by two magnificent elephant’s tusks sunk 
in the ground on each side and meeting at the top, and 
the aperture was closed by a screen of native cloth richly 
embroidered with gold. We made our way to this impos- 
ing-looking structure, but, on reaching the opening in the 
stockade, the multitude stopped and squatted down upon 
their hams, while I was led through into the enclosure 
by a few of the chiefs and elders of the tribe, Goring 
accompanying us, and, in fact, directing the proceedings. 
On reaching the screen which closed the temple—for such 
it evidently was—my hat and my shoes were removed, 
and I was then led in, a venerable old negro leading the 
way carrying in his hand my stone, which had been taken 
from my pocket. The building was only lighted up by 
a few iong slits in the roof, through which the tropical 
sun poured, throwing broad golden bars upon the clay 
floor, alternating with intervals of darkness. 

The interior was even larger than one would have 
imagined from the outside appearance. The walls were 
hung with native mats, shells, and other ornaments, but 
the remainder of the great space was quite empty, with 
the exception of a single object in the center. ‘his was 
the figure of a colossal negro, which I at first thought 
to be some real king or high priest of titanic size, but 
as I approached it I saw by the way in which the light 


178 A STUDY IN SCARLET 


was reflected from it that it was a statue admirably cut 
in jet-black stone. I was led up to this idol, for such 
it seemed to be, and looking at it closer I saw 
that, though it was perfect in every other respect, one 
of its ears had been broken short off. The gray-haired 
negro who held my relic mounted upon a small stool, 
and stretching up his arm fitted Martha’s black stone onto 
the jagged surface on the side of the statue’s head. There 
could not be a doubt that the one had been broken off 
from the other. The parts dovetailed together so accu- 
rately that when the old man removed his hand the ear 
stuck in its place for a few seconds before dropping into 
his open palm. The group round me prostrated them- 
selves upon the ground at the sight with a cry of rever- 
ence, while the crowd outside, to whom the result was 
communicated, set up a wild whooping and cheering. 

In a moment I found myself converted from a prisoner 
into a demi-god. I was escorted back through the town in 
triumph, the people pressing forward to touch my cloth- 
ing and to gather up the dust on which my foot had trod. 
One of the largest huts was put at my disposal, and a 
banquet of every native delicacy was served me. [ still 
felt, however, that I was-not a free man, as several 
spearmen were placed as a guard at the entrance of my 
hut. All day my mind was occupied with plans of escape, 
but none seemed in any way feasible. On the one side 
was the great arid desert stretching away to Timbuctoo, 
on the other was a sea untraversed by vessels. The 
mote I pondered over the problem the more hopeless did 
it seem. I little dreamed how near I was to its solution. 

Night had fallen, and the clamor of the negroes had 
died gradually away. I was stretched on the couch of 
skins which had been provided for me, and was still 
meditating over my future, when Goring walked stealth- 
ily into the hut. My first idea was that he had come to 
complete his murderous holocaust by making away with 
me, the last survivor, and I ‘sprang up upon my feet, de- 
termined to defend myself to the last. He smiled when 
he saw the action, and motioned me down again while he 
seated himself upon the other end of the couch. 


A STUDY IN SCARLET 479 


“What do you think of me?” was the astonishing ques- 
tion with which he commenced our conversation. 

“Think of you!” I almost yelled. “I think you the 
vilest, most unnatural renegade that ever polluted the 
earth! If we were away from these black devils of yours 
I would strangle you with my hands!” 

“Don’t speak so loud,” he said, without the slightest 
appearance of irritation. “I don’t want our chat to be 
cut short. So you would strangle me, would you?” he 
went on, with an amused smile. “I suppose I am re- 
turning good for evil, for I have come to help you to 
escape.” 

“You!” I gasped, incredulously. 

“Yes, I,” he continued. “Oh, there is no credit to me 
in the matter. I am-quite consistent. There is no reason 
why I should not be perfectly candid with you. I wish 
to be king over these fellows—not a very high ambition, 
certainly, but you know what Cesar said about being first 
in a village in Gaul. Well, this unlucky stone of yours 
has not only saved your life, but has turned all their heads, 
so that they think you are come down from heaven, and 
my influence will be gone until you are out of the way. 
That is why I am going to help you to escape, since | 
cannot kill you’’—this in the most natural and dulcet 
voice, as if the desire to do so were a matter of course. 

“You would give the world to ask me a few questions,” 
he went on, after a pause, “but you are too proud to do 
it. Never mind; I’ll tell you one or two things, because 
I want your fellow white men to know them when you go 
back—if you are lucky enough to get back. About that 
cursed stone of yours, for instance. These negroes, or 
at least so the legend goes, were Mohammedans originally. 
While Mohammed himself was still alive there was a 
schism among his followers, and the smaller party moved 
away from Arabia, and eventually crossed Africa. They 
took away with them, in their exile, a valuable relic of 
their old faith in the shape of a large piece of black stone 
of Mecca. The stone was a meteoric one, as you may 
have heard, and in its fall upon the earth it broke into 
two pieces. One of these pieces is still at Mecca. The 


180 A STUDY IN SCARLET 


larger piece was carried away to Barbary, where a skillful 
worker molded it into the fashion which you saw to-day. 
These men are the descendants of the original seceders 
from Mohammed, and they have brought their relic safely 
through all their wanderings until they settled in this” 
strange place, where the desert protects them from their 
enemies.” 

“And the ear?’ I asked, almost involuntarily. 

“Oh, that was the same story over again. Some of the 
tribe wandered away to the south a few hundred years” 
ago, and one of them, wishing to have good luck for the : 
enterprise, got into the temple at night and carried off © 
one of the ears. There has been a tradition among the 
negroes ever since that the ear would come back some © 
day. The fellow who carried it was caught by some 
slaver, no doubt, and that was how it got into America, — 
and so into your hands—and you have had the honor 
of fulfilling the prophecy.” 5 

He paused for a few minutes, resting his head upon 
his hands, waiting apparently for me to speak. When 
he looked up again the whole expression of his face had 
changed. His features were firm and set, and he changed — 
the air of half levity with which he had spoken before - 
for one of sternness and almost ferocity. 

“I wish you to carry a message back,” he said, “to — 
the white race—the great dominating race, whom I hate 
and defy. Tell them that I have battened on their blood — 
for twenty years; that I have slain them until even I 
became tired of what had once been a joy; that I did this 
unnoticed and unsuspected in the face of every precau- 
tion which their civilization could suggest. There is no 
satisfaction in revenge when your enemy does not know 
who has struck him. I am not sorry, therefore, to have 
you as a messenger. There is no need why I should 
tell you how this great hate became born in me. See 
this,” and he held up his mutilated hand; “that was done 
by a white man’s knife. My father was white, my mother © 
was a slave. When he died she was sold again, and I, 
a child then, saw her lashed to death to break her of 
some of the little airs and graces which her late master 


ps 
ai) 
; 

F 


A STUDY IN SCARLET 181 


had encouraged in her. My young wife, too—oh! my 
young wife!” a shudder ran through his whole frame. 
“No matter! I swore my oath, and I kept it. From 
Maine to Florida, and from Boston to San Francisco, 
you could track my steps by sudden deaths which baffled 
the police. I warred against the whole white race as they 
for centuries had warred against the black one. At last, 
as I tell you, I sickened of blood. Still, the sight of a 
white face was abhorrent to me, and I determined to find 
some bold, free black people and to throw in my lot with 
them, to cultivate their latent powers, and to form a 
nucleus for a great colored nation. This idea possessed 
me, and I traveled over the world for two years seek- 
ing for what I desired. At last I almost despaired of 
finding it. There was no hope of regeneration in the 
slave-dealing Soudanese, the debased Fantee, or the 
Americanized negroes of Liberia. I was returning from 
my quest when chance brought me in contact with this 
magnificent tribe of dwellers in the desert, and I threw 
in my lot with them. Before doing so, however, my old 
instinct of revenge prompted me to make one last visit 
to the United States, and I returned from it in the 
‘Marie Celeste.’ 

“As to the voyage itself, your intelligence will have 
told you by this time that, thanks to my manipulation, 
both compasses and chronometers were entirely untrust- 
worthy. I alone worked out the course with correct in- 
struments of my own, while the steering was done by 
my black friends under my guidance. I pushed Tibbs’ 
wife overboard. What! You look surprised and shrink 
away. Surely you had guessed that by this time. I 
would have shot you that day through the partition, but 
unfortunately you were not there. I tried again after- 
ward, but you were awake. I shot Tibbs. I think the 
idea of suicide was carried out rather neatly. Of course 
when once we got on the coast the rest was simple. I had 
bargained that all on board should die, but that stone of 
yours upset my plans. I also bargained that there should 
be no plunder. No one can say we are pirates; we have 
acted from principle, not from any sordid motive.” 


182 A STUDY IN SCARLET 


I listened in amazement to the summary of his crimes 
which this strange man gave me, all in the quietest 
and most composed of voices, as though detailing inci- 
dents of every-day occurrence. I still seem to see him 
sitting like a hideous nightmare at the end of my couch, 
with the single rude lamp flickering over his cadaverous 
features. 

“And now,” he continued, “there is no difficulty about 
your escape. These stupid adopted children of mine will 
say that you have gone back to heaven, from whence 
you came. The wind blows off the land. I have a boat 
for you, well stored with provisions and water. I am 
anxious to be rid of you, so you may rely that nothing 
is neglected. Rise up and follow me.” 

I did what he commanded, and he led me through the 
door of the hut. The guards had either been withdrawn, 
or Goring had arranged matters with them. We passed 
unchallenged through the town and across the sandy 
plain. Once more I heard the roar of the sea and saw 
the long white line of the surge. Two figures were 
standing upon the shore arranging the gear of a small 
boat. They were the two sailors who had been with us 
on the voyage. “See him safely through the surf,” said 
Goring. The two men sprang in and pushed off, pulling 
me in after them. With mainsail and jib we ran out 
from the land and passed safely over the bar. Then 
my two companions, without a word of farewell, sprang 
overboard, and I saw their heads like black dots on the 
white foam as they made their way back to the shore, 
while I scudded away into the blackness of the night. 
Looking back I caught my last glimpse of Goring. He 
was standing upon the summit of a_ sand-hill, and 
the rising moon behind him threw his gaunt, angular 
figure into hard relief. He was waving his arms fran- 
tically to and fro; it may have been to encourage me 
on my way, but the gestures seemed to me at the time 
to be threatening ones, and I have often thought that it 
was more likely that his old savage instinct had returned 
when he realized that I was out of his power. Be that 


A STUDY IN SCARLET 183 


as it may, it was the last that ] ever saw or ever shall 
see of Septimius Goring. 

There is no need for me to dwell upon my solitary 
voyage. I steered as well as I could for the Canaries, 
but was picked up upon the fifth day by the British and 
African Steam Navigation Company’s boat “Monrovia.” 
Let me take this opportunity of tendering my sincerest 
thanks to Captain Stornoway and his officers for the great 
kindness which they showed me from that time till they 
landed me in Liverpool, where I was enabled to take one 
of the Guion boats to New York. 

Fom the day on which I found myself once more in 
the bosom of my family I have said little of what I 
have undergone. The subject is still an intensely painful 
one to me, and the little which I have dropped has been 
discredited. I now put the facts. before the public as 
they occurred, careless how far they may be believed, 
and simply writing them down because my lung is grow- 
ing weaker and I feel the responsibility of holding my 
peace longer. I make no vague statement. Turn to your 
map of Africa. There above Cape Blanco, where the 
land trends away north and south from the western- 
most point of the continent—there it is that Septimius 
Goring still reigns over his dark subjects, unless retri- 
bution has overtaken him; and there, where the long 
green ridges run swiftly in to roar and hiss upon the 
hot yellow sand, it is there that Harton lies with Hyson 
and the other poor fellows who were done to death in 
the “Marie Celeste.” 


THE GREAT KEINPLATZ EXPERIMENT 


Or all the sciences which have puzzled the sons of 
men none had such an attraction for the learned Pro- 
fessor von Baumgarten as those which relate to psychol- 
egy and the ill-defined relations between mind and mat- 
ter. A celebrated anatomist, a profound chemist, and 
one of the first physiologists in Europe, it was a relief 
for him to turn from these subjects and to bring his 
varied knowledge to bear upon the study of the soul and 
the mysterious relationship of spirits. At first, when as 


184 A STUDY IN SCARLET 


a young man he began to dip into the secrets of mes- 
merism, his mind seemed to be wandering in a strange 
land, where all was chaos and darkness, save that here 
and there some great, unexplainable and disconnected 
fact loomed out in front of him. As the years passed, 
however, and as the worthy professor’s stock of knowl- 
edge increased (for knowledge begets knowledge, as 
money bears interest), much which had seemed strange 
and unaccountable began to take another shape in his 
eyes. New trains of reasoning became familiar to him, 
and he perceived connecting links where all had been in- 
comprehensible and startling. By experiments which 
extended over twenty years he obtained a basis of facts 
upon which it was his ambition to build up a new exact 
science which should embrace mesmerism, spiritualism, 
and all cognate subjects. In this he was much helped by 
his intimate knowledge of the more intricate parts of | 
animal physiology which treat of nerve currents and the 
working of the brain; for Alexis von Baumgarten was 
Regius Professor of Physiology at the University of 
Keinplatz, and had all the resources of the laboratory 
to aid him in his profound researches. 

Professor von Baumgarten was tall and thin, with a 
hatchet face and steel-gray eyes, which were singularly 
bright and penetrating. Much thought had furrowed 
his forehead and contracted his heavy eyebrows, so that 
he appeared to wear a perpetual frown, which often mis- 
led people as to his character, for though austere he was 
tender-hearted. He was popular among the students, 
who would gather round him after his lectures and lis- 
ten eagerly to his strange theories. Often he would call 
for volunteers from among them in order to conduct 
some experiment, so that eventually there was hardly a 
lad in the class who had not at one time or another been 
thrown into a mesmeric trance by his professor. 

Of all these young devotees of science there was none 
who equaled in enthusiasm Fritz von Hartmann. It 
had often seemed strange to his fellow-students that 
wild, reckless Fritz, as dashing a young fellow as ever 


A STUDY IN SCARLET 185 


hailed from the Rhinelands, should devote the time and 
trouble which he did in reading up abstruse works and 
in assisting the professor in his strange experiments. 
The fact was, however, that Fritz was a knowing and 
long-headed fellow. Months before he had lost his heart 
to young Elise, the blue-eyed, yellow-haired daughter of 
the lecturer. Although he had succeeded in learning 
from her lips that she was not indifferent to his suit, he 
had never dared to announce himself to her family as a 
formal suitor. Hence he would have found it a difficult 
matter to see his young lady had he not adopted the ex- 
pedient of making himself useful to the professor. By 
this means he frequently was asked to the old man’s 
house, where he willingly submitted to be experimented 
upon in any way as long as there was a chance of his 
teceiving one bright glance from the eyes of Elise or 
one touch of her little hand. 

Young Fritz von Hartmann was a handsome lad 
enough; there were broad acres, too, which would de- 
scend to him when his father died. To many he would 
have seemed an eligible suitor, but madame frowned 
upon his presence in the house, and lectured the profes- 
sor at times upon his allowing such a wolf to prowl 
around their lamb. To tell the truth, Fritz had an evil 
name in Keinplatz. Never was there a riot or a duel, or 
any other mischief afoot, but the young Rhinelander 
figured as a ringleader in it. No one used more free and 
violent language, no one drank more, no one played cards 
more habitually, no one was more idle, save in the one 
solitary subject. No wonder, then, that the good frau 
professorin gathered her fraulein under her wing, and 
resented the attentions of such a mauvais suject. As 
to the worthy lecturer, he was too much engrossed by 
his strange studies to form an opinion upon the subject 
one way or the other. 

For many years there was one question which had 
continually obtruded itself upon his thoughts. All his 
experiments and his theories turned upon a single point. 
A hundred times a day the professor asked himself 


186 A STUDY IN SCARLET 


whether it was possible for the human spirit to exist 
apart from the body for a time and then to return to it 
once again. When the possibility first suggested itself 
to him his scientific mind had revolted from it. It 
clashed too violently with preconceived ideas and the 
prejudices of his early training. Gradually, however, as 
he proceeded further and further along the pathway of 
original research, his mind shook off its old fetters and 
became ready to face any conclusion which could recon- 
cile the facts. There were many things which made him 
believe that it was possible for mind to exist apart from 
matter. At last it occurred to him that by a daring and 
original experiment the question might be definitely de- 
cided. 

“It is evident,” he remarked in his celebrated article 
upon invisible entities, which appeared in the Keinplatz 
wochenliche Medicalschrsft about this time, and which 
surprized the whole scientific world—‘It is evident that 
under certain conditions the soul or mind does sepa- 
rate itself from the body. In the case of a mesmer- 
ized person, the body lies in a cataleptic condition, but 
the spirit has left it. Perhaps you reply that the soul 
is there, but in a dormant condition. I answer that this 
is not so, otherwise how can one account for the condi- 
tion of clairvoyance, which has fallen into disrepute 
through the knavery of certain scoundrels, but which can 
easily be shown to be an undoubted fact? I have been 
able myself, with a sensitive subject, to obtain an ac- 
curate description of what was going on in another 
room or another house. How can such knowledge be 
accounted for on any hypothesis save that the soul of the 
subject has left the body and is wandering through space? 
For a moment it is recalled by the voice of the operator 
and says what it has seen, and then wings its way once 
more through the air. Since the spirit is by its very 
nature invisible, we cannot see these comings and goings, 
but we see their effect in the body of the subject, now 
rigid and inert, now struggling to narrate impressions 
which could never have come to it by natural means. 


A STUDY IN SCARLET 187 


There is only one way I can see by which the fact can 
be demonstrated. Although we in the flesh are unable 
to see these spirits, yet our own spirits, could we separate 
them from the body, would be conscious of the presence 
of others. It is my intention, therefore, shortly to mes- 
merize one of my pupils. I shall then mesmerize myself 
in a manner which has become easy to me. After 
that, if my theory holds good, my spirit will have no 
difficulty in meeting and communing with the spirit of 
my pupil, both being separated from the body. I hope 
to be able to communicate the result of this interesting 
experiment in an early number of the Keinplatz wochen- 
liche Medscalschrift.” 

When the good professor finally fulfilled his promise, 
and published an account of what occurred, the nar- 
tative was so extraordinary that it was received with 
general incredulity. The tone of some of the papers 
was so offensive in their comments upon the matter that 
the angry savant declared that he would never open his 
mouth again or refer to the subject in any way—a prom- 
ise which he has faithfully kept. This narrative has 
been compiled, however, from the most authentic sources, 
and the events cited in it may be relied upon as substan- 
tially correct. 

It happened, then, that shortly after the time when 
Professor Baumgarten conceived the idea of the above- 
mentioned experiment, he was walking thoughtfully 
homeward after a long day in the laboratory, when he 
met a crowd of roistering students who had just streamed 
out from a beer-house. At the head of them, half-in- 
toxicated and very noisy, was young Fritz von Hartmann. 
The professor would have passed them, but his pupil ran 
across and intercepted him. 

“Hey! my worthy master,” he said, taking the old man 
by the sleeve and leading him down the road with him, 
“there is something that I have to say to you, and it is 
easier for me to say it now, when the good beer is hum- 
ming in my head, than at another time.” 


188 A STUDY IN SCARLET 


“What is it, then, Fritz?” the physiologist asked, look- 
ing at him in mild surprise. oe 

“I hear, mein herr, that you are about to do some 
wondrous experiment in which you hope to take a man’s 
soul out of his body, and then to put it back again. Is 
it not so?” 

“It is true, Fritz.” 

“And have you considered, my dear sir, that you may 
have some difficulty in finding some one on whom to try 
this? Potztausend! Suppose that the soul went out 
and would not come back. That would be a bad business. 
Who is to take the risk?” 

“But, Fritz,” the professor cried, very much startled 
by this view of the matter, “I had relied upon your 
assistance in the attempt. Surely you will not desert me. 
Consider the honor and glory.” 3 

“Consider the fiddlesticks!” the student cried angrily. 
“Am I to be paid always thus? Did I not stand two 
hours on a glass insulator while you poured electricity 
into my body? Have you not stimulated my phrenic 
nerves, besides ruining my digestion with a galvanic cur- 
rent round my stomach? Four-and-thirty times you have 
mesmerized me, and what have I got from all this? 
Nothing. And now you wish to take my soul out, as 
you would take the works from a watch. It is more 
than flesh and blood can stand.” | 

“Dear! dear!” the professor cried in great distress. 
“That is very true, Fritz. I never thought of it before. 
If you can but suggest how I can compensate you, you 
will find me ready and willing.” 

“Then listen,” said Fritz solemnly: “If you will pledge 
your word that after this experiment I may have the 
hand of your daughter, then I am willing to assist you; 
but if not, I shall have nothing to do with it. These 
are my only terms.” : 

“And what would my daughter say to this?” the pro- 
fessor exclaimed, after a pause of astonishment. 

“Elise would welcome it,” the young man replied. 
“We have loved each other long.” 


A STUDY IN SCARLET 189 


“Then she shall be yours,’ the physiologist said with 
decision, “for you are a good-hearted young man, and one 
of the best neurotic subjects that I have ever known— 
that is, when you are not under the influence of alcohol. 
My experiment is to be performed upon the fourth of 
next month. You will attend at the physiological labora- 
tory at twelve o’clock. It will be a great occasion, Fritz. 
Von Gruben is coming from Jena, and Hinterstein from 
Basle. The chief men of science of all South Germany 
will be there.” 

“1 shall be punctual,” the student said briefly; and so 
the two parted. The professor plodded homeward, think- 
ing of the great coming event, while the young man 
staggered along after his noisy companions, with his 
mind full of the blue-eyed Elise, and of the bargain which 
he had concluded with her father. 

The professor did not exaggerate when he spoke of 
the widespread interest by his novel psycho-physiological 
experiment. Long before the hour had arrived the room 
was filled by a galaxy of talent. Besides the celebrities 
whom he had mentioned, there had come from London 
the great Professor Lurcher, who had just established 
his reputation by a remarkable treatise upon cerebral cen- 
ters. Several great lights of the Spiritualistic body had 
also come a long distance to be present, as had a Swed- 
enborgian minister, who considered that the proceedings 
pent throw some light upon the doctrines of the Rosy 

ross. 

_ There was considerable applause from this eminent 
assembly upon the appearance of Professor von Baum- 
garten and his subject upon the platform. ‘The lecturer, 
in a few well-chosen words, explained what his views 
were, and how he proposed to test them. “I hold,” he 
said, “that when a person is under the influence of mes- 
merism, his spirit is for the time released from his body, 
and I challenge any one to put forward any other hy- 
pothesis which will account for the fact of clairvoyance. 
I therefore hope that upon mesmerizing my young friend 
here, and then putting myself into a trance, our spirits 


190 A STUDY IN SCARLET 


may be able to commune together, though our bodies lie 
still and inert. After a time nature will resume her 
sway, our spirits will return into our respective bodies, : 
and all will be as before. With your kind permission we 
shall now proceed to attempt the experiment.” | 

The applause was renewed at this speech, and the 
audience settled down in expectant silence. With a 
few rapid passes the performer mesmerized the young 
man, who sank back in his chair, pale and rigid. He- 
then took a bright globe of glass from his pocket, and 
by concentrating his gaze upon it and making a strong 
mental effort, he succeeded in throwing himself into the 
same condition. It was a strange and impressive sight 
to see the old man and the young sitting together in the 
same cataleptic condition. Whither, then, had their souls _ 
fled? That was the question which presented itself to 
each and every one of the spectators. , 

Five minutes passed, and then ten, and then fifteen, and 
then fifteen more, while the professor and his pupil sat 
stiff and stark upon the platform. During that time 
not a sound was heard from the assembled savants, but 
every eye was bent upon the two pale faces in search 
of the first signs of returning consciousness. Nearly 
an hour had elapsed before the patient watchers were 
rewarded. A faint flush came back to the cheeks of 
Professor Von Baumgarten. The soul was coming back 
once more to its earthly tenement. Suddenly he stretched 
out his long, thin arms, as one awaking from sleep, and, 
rubbing his eyes, stood up from his chair and gazed about 
him as though he hardly realized where he was. “Tau- 
send teufel!’ he exclaimed, rapping out a tremendous 
South German oath, to the great astonishment of his 
audience and to the disgust of the Swedenborgian 
“Where the henker am I, then, and what in thunder has 
occurred? Oh, yes, I remember now—one of these non- 
sensical mesmeric experiments. There is no result this 
time, for I remember nothing at all since I became un- 
conscious; so you have had all your long journeys for 
nothing, my learned friends, and a very good joke, too.” 


A STUDY IN SCARLET 191 


At which the regius professor of physiology burst into 
a roar of laughter and slapped his thigh in a highly in- 
decorous fashion. The.audience were so enraged at this 
unseemly behavior on the part of their host that there 
might have been a considerable disturbance, had it not 
been for the judicious interferance of young Fritz Von 
Hartmann, who had now recovered from his lethargy. 
Stepping to the front of the platform the young man 
apologized for the conduct of his companion. “I am 
sorry to say,” he said, “that he is a harum-scarum sort 
of fellow, although he appeared so grave at the com- 
mencement of this experiment. He is still suffering 
from mesmeric reaction, and is hardly accountable for 
his words. As to the experiment itself, I do not consider 
it to be a failure. It is very possible that our spirits may 
have been communing in space during this hour; but, un- 
fortunately, our gross bodily memory is distinct, from our 
spirit, and we cannot recall what has occurred. My ener- 
gies shall now be devoted to devising some means by 
which spirits may be able to recollect what occurs to them 
in their free state, and I trust that when I have worked 
this out I may have the pleasure of meeting you all once 
again in this hall, and demonstrating to you the result.” 
This address, coming from so young a student, caused 
considerable astonishment among the audience, and some 
were inclined to be offended, thinking that he assumed 
rather too much importance. The majority, however, 
looked upon him as a young man of great promise, and 
many comparisons were made as they left the hall be- 
tween his dignified conduct and the levity of the pro- 
fessor, who during the above remarks was laughing 
heartily in a corner, by no means abashed at the failure 
of the experiment. 

Now, although all these learned men were filing out 
of the lecture-room under the impression that they had 
seen nothing of note, as a matter of fact one of the most 
wonderful things in the whole history of the world had 
just occurred before their very eyes. Professor von 
Baumgarten had been so far correct in his theory that 


192 A STUDY IN SCARLET 


both his spirit and that of his pupil had been for a mf 
absent from his body. But here a strange and unfore- 
seen complication had occurred. In their return the 
spirit of Fritz von Hartmann had entered into the body 
of Alexis von Baumgarten, and that of Alexis von Baum- 
garten had taken up its abode in the frame of Fritz von 
Hartmann. Hence the slang and scurrility which issued 
from the lips of the serious professor, and hence also the 
weighty words and grave statements which fell from the 
careless student. It was an unprecedented event, yet no 
one knew of it, least of all those whom it concerned. 

The body of the professor, feeling conscious suddenly 
of a great dryness about the back of the throat, sallied 
out into the street, still chuckling to himself over the re- 
sult of the experiment, for the soul of Fritz within was 
reckless at the thought of the bride whom he had won 
so easily. His first impulse was to go up to the house 
and see her, but on second thoughts he came to the 
conclusion that it would be best to stay away until Mme. 
Baumgarten should be informed by her husband of the 
agreement which had been made. He therefore made 
his way down to the Gruner Mann, which was one of the 
favorite trysting-places of the wilder students, and ran, 
boisterously waving his cane in the air, into the little 
parlor, where sat Spiegler and Muller and half a dozen 
other boon companions. 

“Ha, ha! my boys,’ he shouted. “I knew I should 
find you here. Drink up, every one of you, and call for 
what you like, for I’m going to stand treat to-day.” 

Had the green man who is depicted upon the sign- 
post of that well-known inn suddenly marched into the 
room and called for a bottle of wine, the students could 
not have been more amazed than they were by this un- 
expected entry of their revered professor. They were 
so astonished that for a minute or two they glared at him 
in utter bewilderment without being able to make any 
reply to his hearty invitation. 

“Donner und blitzen!’’ shouted the professor angrily. 
“What the deuce is the matter with you, then? You sit 


A STUDY IN SCARLET 193 


there like a set of stuck pigs staring at me. What is it, 
then?” 

_ “Tt is the unexpected honor,” stammered Spiegel, who 
was in the chair. 

“Honor—rubbish!”’ said the professor testily. “Do 
you think that just because I happen to have been ex- 
hibiting mesmerism to a parcel of old fossils, I am there- 
fore too proud to associate with dear old friends like 
your Come out of that chair, Spiegel, my boy, for I 
shall preside now. Beer, or wine, or schnapps, my lads— 
call for what you like, and put it all down to me.” 

Never was there such an afternoon in the Gruner 
Mann. The foaming flagons of lager and the green- 
necked bottles of Rhenish circulated merrily. By degrees 
the students lost their shyness in the presence of their 
professor. As for him, he shouted, he sang, he roared, 
he balanced a long tobacco-pipe upon his nose, and of- 
fered to run a hundred yards against any member of the 
company. The kellner and the barmaid whispered to 
each other outside the door of their astonishment at such 
proceedings on the part of a regius professor of the 
ancient University of Keinplatz. They had still more 
to whisper about afterward, for the learned man cracked 
the kellner’s crown and kissed the barmaid behind the 
kitchen door. 

“Gentlemen,” said the professor, standing up, albeit 
somewhat totteringly, at the end of the table, and bal- 
ancing his high, old-fashioned wine glass in his bony 
hand, “I must now explain to you what is the cause of 
this festivity.” 

“Hear! hear!’ roared the students, hammering their 
beer glasses against the table; “a speech, a speech!— 
silence for a speech!” 

“The fact is, my friends,” said the professor, beam- 
ee roreh his spectacles, “I hope very soon to be mar- 
Tied.” 

“Married!” cried a student bolder than the others. 
“Is madame dead, then?” 

“Madame who?” 


194 A STUDY IN SCARLET 


“Why, Madame von Baumgarten, of course.” ‘ 
“Ha, ha,” laughed the professor; “I can see, then, that — 
you know all about my former difficulties. No, she is not 
dead, but I have reason to believe that she will not oppose — 
my marriage.’ . 
“That is very accommodating of her,’ remarked one — 
of the company. 
“In fact,” said the professor, “I hope that she will 
now be induced to aid me in getting a wife. She and 
I never took to each other very much, but now I hope 
all that may be ended, and when I marry she will come — 
and stay with me.” : 
“What a funny family!” exclaimed some wag. i 
“Yes, indeed ; and I hope you will come to my wedding, 
all of you. I won’t mention names, but here is to my 
little bride!’ and the professor waved his glass in the 
air, | 
“Here’s to his little bride!” roared the roysterers with 
shouts of laughter. “Here’s her health. Sie soll leben— 
hoch!’ And so the fun waxed still more fast and furi-— 
ous, while each young fellow followed the professor’s ex- _ 
ample and drank a toast to the girl of his heart. 
While all this festivity had been going on at the Gruner 
Mann, a very different scene had been enacted elsewhere. 
Young Fritz von Hartmann, with a solemn face and a 
reserved manner, had, after the experiment, consulted 
and adjusted some mathematical instruments; after 
which, with a few peremptory words to the janitors, he 
had walked out into the street and wended his way slowly 
in the direction of the house of the professor. As he. 
walked he saw Von Althaus, the professor of anatomy, in 
front of him, and quickening his pace he overtook him. — 
“T say, Von Althaus,” he exclaimed, tapping him on | 
the sleeve, “you were asking me for some information 
the other day concerning the middle coast of the cerebral — 
arteries. Now I find fe 
“Donnerwetter!’”’ shouted Von Althaus, who was a 
peppery old fellow. “What the deuce do you mean by 
your impertinence! Tl have you up before the academi- 


39 


A STUDY IN SCARLET 195 


‘eal senate for this, sir; with which threat he turned on 
his heel and hurried away. Von Hartmann was much 
surprised at this reception. “It’s on account of this fail- 
ure of my experiment,” he said to himself, and continued 
moodily on his way. 

Fresh surprises were in store for him, however. He 
was hurrying along when he was overtaken by two stu- 
dents. These youths, instead of raising their caps or 
showing any other sign of respect, gave a wild whoop 
of delight the instant that they saw him, and rushing 
at him, seized him by each arm and commenced drag- 
ging him along with them. 

“Gott in himmel!” roared Von Hartmann. ‘What 
is the meaning of this unparalleled insult? Where are 
you taking me?” 

“To crack a bottle of wine with us,” said the two stu- 
dents. “Come along! ‘That is an invitation which you 
have never refused.” 

“T never heard of such insolence in my life!” cried 
Von Hartmann. “Let go my arms! I shall certainly 
have you rusticated for this. Let me go, I say!” and 
he kicked furiously at his captors. 

“Oh, if you choose to turn ill-tempered, you may go 
where you like,” the students said, releasing him. “We 
can do very well without you.” 

“J know you. I'll pay you out,” said Von Hartmann 
furiously, and continued in the direction which he im- 
agined to be his own home, much incensed at the two epi- 
sodes which had occurred to him on the way. 

Now, Mme. von Baumgarten, who was looking out 
of the window and wondering why her husband was 
late for dinner, was considerably astonished to see the 
young student come stalking down the road. As already 
remarked, she had a great antipathy to him, and if ever 
he ventured into the house it was on sufferance, and under 
the protection of the professor. Still more astonished 
was she, therefore, when she beheld him undo the wicket 
gate and stride up the garden path with the air of one 
who is master of the situation. She could hardly believe 


P| 


196 A STUDY IN SCARLET 


her eyes, and hastened to the door with all her maternal - 
instincts up in arms. From the upper windows the fair 
Elise had also observed this daring move upon the part 
of her lover, and her heart beat quick with mingled pride 
and consternation. : 

“Good-day, sir,” Mme. Baumgarten remarked to the 
intruder, as she stood in gloomy majesty in the open” 
doorway. 

“A very fine day indeed, Martha,” returned the other. 
“Now, don’t stand there like a statue of Juno, but bustle” 
about and get the dinner ready, for I am well-nigh 
starved.” i 

“Martha! Dinner!” ejaculated the lady, falling back 
in astonishment. i 

“Yes, dinner, Martha, dinner!” howled Von Hart- 
mann, who was becoming irritable. “Is there anything” 
wonderful in that request when a man has been out all 
day? Ill wait in the dining-room. Anything will do.” 
Schinken, and sausage, and prunes—any little thing that — 
happens to be about. There you are, standing staring 
again. Woman, will you or will you not stir your legs?” 

This last address, delivered with a perfect shriek of 
rage, had the effect of sending good Mme. Baumgarten — 
flying along the passage and through the kitchen, where 
she locked herself up in the scullery and went into vio-— 
lent hysterics. In the meantime Von Hartmann strode 
into the room and threw himself down upon the sofa in 
the worst of tempers. 

“Elise!” he shouted. ‘“Confound the girl! Elise!” 

Thus roughly summoned, the young lady came timidly 
down stairs and into the presence of her lover. ‘Dear-— 
est!” she cried, throwing her arms around him, “I know 
this is all done for my sake! It is a ruse in order to see 
me,’ | 

Von Hartmann’s indignation at this fresh attack upon 
him was so great that he became speechless for a minute 
from rage, and could only glare and shake his fists, while 
he struggled in her embrace. When he at last regained 
his utterance he indulged in such a bellow of passion that 


A STUDY IN SCARLET 197 


the young lady dropped back, petrified with fear, into an 
armchair. 

“Never have I passed such a day in my life,” Von 
Hartmann cried, stamping upon the floor. “My experi- 
ment has failed. Von Althaus has insulted me. Two 
students have dragged me along the public road. My wife 
nearly faints when I ask her for dinner, and my daughter 
flies at me and hugs me like a grizzly bear.” 

“You are ill, dear,” the young lady cried; “‘your mind 
is wandering. You have not even kissed me once.” 

“No, and I don’t intend to, either,” Von Hartmann 

said with decision. “You ought to be ashamed of your- 
self. Why don’t you go and fetch my slippers, and help 
your mother to dish the dinner?” 
_ “And is it for this?” Elise cried, burying her face in 
her handkerchief—“Is it for this that I have loved you 
passionately for upward of ten months? Is it for this 
that I have braved my mother’s wrath? Oh, you have 
broken my heart; I am sure you have!” and she sobbed 
hysterically. 

“I can’t stand much more of this,” roared Von Hart- 
mann furiously. “What the deuce does the girl mean? 
What did I do ten months ago which inspired you with 
such a particular affection for me? If you are really so 
very fond, you would do better to run away down and 
find the schinken and some bread, instead of talking all 
this nonsense.” 

“Oh, my darling!’ cried the unhappy maiden, throw- 
ing herself into the arms of what she imagined to be 
Et lover, “you do but joke in order to frighten your little 

lise.” 

Now it chanced that at the moment of this unex- 
pected embrace Von Hartmann was still leaning back 
against the end of the sofa, which, like much German 
furniture, was in a somewhat rickety condition. It also 
chanced that beneath this end of the sofa there stood 
a tank full of water in which the physiologist was con- 
ducting certain experiments upon the ova of fish, and 
which he kept in his drawing-room in order to insure 


198 A STUDY IN SCARLET 


an equable temperature. ‘The additional weight of the | 
maiden, combined with the impetus with which she hurled | 
herself upon him, caused the precarious piece of furniture | 
to give way, and the body of the unfortunate student was 
hurled backward into the tank, in which his head and | 
shoulders were firmly wedged, while his lower extremi- 
ties flapped helplessly about in the air. This was the 
last straw. [Extricating himself with some difficulty from | 
his unpleasant position, Von Hartman gave an inarticulate. 
yell of fury, and dashing out of the room, in spite of the | 
entreaties of Elise, he seized his hat and rushed off into 

the town, all dripping and disheveled, with the intention 
of seeking in some inn the food and comfort which he 
could not find at home. f 

As the spirit of Von Baumgarten incased in the body © 
of Von Hartmann strode down the winding pathway | 
which led down into the little town, brooding angrily over — 
his many wrongs, he became aware that an elderly man 
was approaching him who appeared to be in an advanced 
state of intoxication. Won Hartmann waited by the side 
of the road and watched this individual, who came stum- 
bling along, reeling from one side of the road to the 
other, and singing a student song in a very husky and 
drunken voice. At first his interest was merely excited 
by the fact of seeing a man of so venerable appearance 
in such a disgraceful condition; but as he approached 
nearer he became convinced that he knew the other well, 
though he could not recall when or where he had met 
him. This impression became so strong with him that 
when the stranger came abreast of him he stepped in — 
front of him and took a good look at his features. 

“Well, sonny,” said the drunken man, surveying Von 
Hartmann and swaying about in front of him, “where 
the henker have I seen you before? JI know you as well 
as I know myself. Who the deuce are you?” 

“I am Professor von Baumgarten,” said the student. 
“May I ask who you are? I am strangely familiar 
with your features.” 

“You should never tell lies, young man,” said the other. 


A STUDY IN SCARLET 199 


“You're certainly not the professor, for he is an ugly, 
snuffy old chap, and you are a big, broad shouldered 
young fellow. As to myself, I am Fritz von Hartmann, 
at your service.” 

“That you certainly are not!” exclaimed the body 
of Von Hartmann. ‘You might very well be his father. 
But, hulloo, sir! are you aware that you are wearing 
my studs and my watch-chain?” 

“Donnerwetter!” hiccoughed the other. “If those are 
‘not the trousers for which my tailor is about to sue me, 
may I never taste beer again.” 

Now as Von Hartmann, overwhelmed by the many 
strange things which had occurred to him that day, passed 
his hand over his forehead and cast his eyes downward, 
he chanced to catch the reflection of his own face in a 
pool which the rain had left upon the road. To his utter 
astonishment he perceived that his face was that of a 
youth, that his dress was that of a fashionable young 
student, and that in every way he was the antithesis of 
the grave and scholarly figure in which his mind was 
wont to dwell. In an instant his active brain ran over the 
series of events which had occurred and sprang to the 
conclusion. He fairly reeled under the blow. 

“Himmel!” he cried; “I see it all. Our souls are in 
the wrong bodies! I am you and you are I! My theory 
is proved—but at what an expense! Is the most scholarly 
mind in Europe to go about with this frivolous exterior? 
Oh, the labors of a lifetime are ruined!” and he smote 
his breast in despair. 

“I say,’ remarked the real Von Hartmann from the 
body of the professor; “I quite see the force of your re- 
marks, but don’t go knocking my body about like that. 
You received it in excellent condition, but I perceive that 
you have wet it and bruised it, and spilled snuff over my 
ruffled shirt-front.” 

“It matters little,’ the other said, moodily. ‘Such as 
we are, so must we stay. My theory is triumphantly 
proved, but the cost is terrible.” 

“Tf I thought so,” said the spirit of the student, “it 


200 A STUDY IN SCARLET 


would be hard indeed. What could I do with these 
stiff old limbs, and how could I woo Elise and persuade 
her that I was not her father? No, thank heaven! in 
spite of the beer which has upset me more than ever 
it could upset my real self, I can see a way out of it.” 

“How?” gasped the professor. 

“Why, by repeating the experiment. Liberate our 
souls once more, and the chances are that they will find 
their way back into their respective bodies.” | 

No drowning man could clutch more eagerly at a straw 
than did Von Baumgarten’s spirit at this suggestion. In 
feverish haste he dragged his own frame to the side of 
the road and threw it into a mesmeric trance; he then 
extracted the crystal ball from the pocket, and managed 
to bring himself into the same condition. 

Some students and peasants who chanced to pass dur- 
ing the next hour were much astonished to see the worthy 
professor of physiology and his favorite student both sit- 
ting upon a very muddy bank and both completely in- 
sensible. Before the hour was up quite a crowd had 
assembled, and they were discussing the advisability of 
sending for an ambulance to convey the pair to hospital, 
when the learned savant opened his eyes and gazed va- 
cantly around him, For an instant he seemed to forget 
how he had come there, but next moment he astonished 
his audience by waving his skinny arms above his head 
and crying out in a voice of rapture, “Gott sie géedanket! 
I am myself again—I feel Iam!” Nor was the amaze- 
ment lessened when the student, springing to his feet, 
burst into the same cry, and the two performed a sort 
of pas de joie in the middle of the road. 

For some time after that people had some suspicion 
of the sanity of both the actors in this strange episode. 
When the professor published his experiences in the 
Medicalschrift, as he had promised, he was met by an 
intimation, even from his colleagues, that he would do 
well to have his mind cared for, and that another such 
publication would certainly consign him to a madhouse. 


A STUDY IN SCARLET 201 


The student also found by experience that it was wisest 
to be silent about the matter. 

When the worthy lecturer returned home that night he 
did not receive the cordial welcome which he might have 
looked for after his strange adventures. On the contrary, 
he was roundly upbraided by both his female relatives 
for smelling of drink and tobacco, and also for being 
absent while a young scapegrace invaded the house and 
insulted its occupants. It was long before the domestic 
atmosphere of the lecturer’s house resumed its normal 
quiet, and longer still before the genial face of Von Hart- 
mann was seen beneath its roof. Perseverance, however, 
conquers every obstacle, and the student eventually suc- 
ceeded in pacifying the enraged ladies and in establishing 
himself upon the old footing. He has now no longer 
any cause to fear the enmity of madame, for he is Haupt- 
mann von Hartmann of the emperor’s own Uhlans, and 
his loving wife Elsie has already presented him with two 
little Uhlans as a visible sign and token of her affection. 


THE MAN FROM ARCHANGEL 


On the fourth day of March, in the year 1867, I being 
at that time in my five-and-twentieth year, I wrote down 
the following words in my note-book—the result of much 
mental perturbation and conflict: 

“The solar system, amid a countless number of other 
systems as large as itself rolls ever silently through 
space in the direction of the constellation of Hercules. 
The great spheres of which it is composed spin and spin 
through the eternal void ceaselessly and noiselessly. Of 
these one of the smallest and most insignificant is that 
conglomeration of solid and liquid particles which we have 
named the earth. It whirls onward now as it has done 
before my birth, and will do after my death—a revolving 
Mystery, coming none know whence, and going none 
‘know whither. Upon the outer crust of this moving mass 
‘crawl many mites, of whom I, John M’vittie, am one, 
helpless, impotent, being dragged aimlessly through space. 


202 A STUDY IN SCARLET 


Yet such is the state of things among us that the little 
energy and glimmering of reason which I possess is en- 
tirely taken up with the labors which are necessary in 
order to procure certain metallic disks, wherewith I may 
purchase the chemical elements necessary to build up my 
ever-wasting tissues, and keep a roof over me to shelter 
me from the inclemency of the weather. I thus have no 
thought to expend upon the vital questions which sur- 
round me on every side. Yet, miserable entity as I am, 
I can still at times feel some degree of happiness, and 
am even—save the mark '—puffed up occasionally with a 
sense of my own importance.’ 

These words, as I have said, | wrote down in my 
note-book, and they reflected accurately the thoughts 
which I found rooted far down in my soul, ever present 
and unaffected by the passing emotions of the hour. At 
last, however, came a time when my uncle, M’vittie of 
Glencairn, died—the same who was at one time chairman 
of committees of the House of Commons. He divided 
great wealth among his many nephews, and I found my- 
self with sufficient to provide amply for my wants during 
the remainder of my life, and became at the same time 
owner of a bleak tract of land upon the coast of Caithness, 
which I think the old man must have bestowed upon me 
in derision, for it was sandy and valueless, and he had 
ever a grim sense of humor. Up to this time I had been 
an attorney in a midland town in England. Now I saw 
that I could put my thoughts into effect, and, leaving all 
petty and sordid aims, could elevate my mind by the study 
of the secrets of nature. My departure from my English 
home was somewhat accelerated by the fact that I had 
nearly slain a man in a quarrel, for my temper was fiery, 
and I was apt to forget my own strength when enraged. 
There was no legal action in the matter, but ‘the papers 
yelped at me, and folk looked askance when I met them, 
It ended by my cursing them and their vile, smoke- 
polluted town, and hurrying to my northern possessions, 
where I might at last find peace and an opportunity for 
solitary study and contemplation. I borrowed from my 


A STUDY IN SCARLET 208 


capital before I went, and so was able to take with me a 
choice collection of the most modern philosphical instru- 
ments and books, together with chemicals and such other 
things as I might need in my retirement. 

The land which I had inherited was a narrow strip, 
consisting mostly of sand, and extending for rather over 
two miles round the coast of Mansie Bay, in Caithness. 
Upon this strip there had been a rambling, gray-stone 
building—when erected or wherefore none could tell me 
—and this I had repaired, so that it made a dwelling quite 
good enough for one of my simple tastes. One room 
was my laboratory, another my sitting-room, and in a 
third, just under the sloping roof, I slung the hammock 
in which I always slept. There were three other rooms, 
but I left them vacant, except one which was given over 
to the old crone who kept house for me. Save the 
Youngs and the M’Leods, who were fisher-folk living 
round at the other side of Fergus Ness, there were no 
other people for many miles in each direction. In front 
of the house was the great bay; behind it were two long, 
barren hills, capped by other loftier ones beyond. There 
was a glen between the hills, and when the wind was 
from the land it used to sweep down this with a melan- 
choly sough and whisper among the branches of the fir- 
trees beneath my attic window. 

I dislike my fellow-mortals. Justice compels me to 
add that they appear for the most part to dislike me. I 
hate their little crawling ways, their conventionalities, 
their deceits, their narrow rights and wrongs. They take 
offense at my brusque outspokenness, my disregard for 
their social laws, my impatience of all restraint. Among 
my books and my drugs in my lonely den at Mansie I 
could let the great drove of the human race pass onward 
with their politics and inventions and tittle-tattle, and I 
remained behind stagnant and happy. Not stagnant 
either, for I was working in my own little groove, and 
making progress. I have reason to believe that Dalton’s 
atomic theory is founded upon error, and I know that 
mercury is not an element. 


i 


204 A STUDY IN SCARLET 


| 


During the day I was busy with my distillations and | 
analyses. Often 1 forgot my meals, and when old Madge 
summoned me to my tea I found my dinner lying un-- 


touched upon the table. At night I read Bacon, Descartes, 
Spinoza, Kant—all those who have pried into what is 
unknowable. They are all fruitless and empty, barren of 


result, but prodigal of polysyllables, reminding me of 


men who, while digging for gold, have turned up many © 


worms, and then exhibit them exultantly as being what 
they sought. At times a restless spirit would come upon 


me, and I would walk thirty or forty miles without rest 
or breaking fast. On these occasions, when I used to 
stalk through the country villages, gaunt, unshaven and 
disheveled, the mothers would rush into the road and 
drag their children indoors, and the rustics would swarm 
out of their pot-houses to gaze at me. I believe that I 
was known far and wide as the “mad laird o’ Mansie.” 
It was rarely, however, that I made these raids into the 
country, for I usually took my exercise upon my own 
beach, where I soothed my spirit with strong black to- 
bacco, and made the ocean my friend and confidant. 
What companion is there like the great, restless, throb- 
bing sea? What human mood is there which it does not 


match and sympathize with? There are none so gay but 
that they may feel gayer when they listen to its merry 
turmoil, and see the long green surges racing in, with 


the glint of the sunbeams in their sparkling crests. But 
when the gray waves toss their heads in anger, and the 
wind screams above them, goading them on to madder and 
more tumultuous efforts, then the darkest-minded of men 
feels that there is a melancholy principle in nature which 
is as gloomy as his own thoughts. When it was calm in 
the bay of Mansie the surface would be as clear and bright 
as a sheet of silver, broken only at one spot some little 
way from the shore, where a long black line projected 
out of the water, looking like the jagged back of some 
sleeping monster. This was the top of the dangerous 
ridge of rocks known to the fishermen as the “ragged 
reef o’ Mansie.” When the wind blew from the east 


A STUDY IN SCARLET 205 


the waves would break upon it like thunder, and the 
spray would be tossed far over my house and up to the 
hills behind. The bay itself was a bold and noble one, 
but too much exposed to the northern and eastern gales, 
and too much dreaded for its reef to be much used by 
mariners. ‘There was something of romance about this 
lonely spot. I have lain in my boat upon a calm day, and 
peering over the edge I have seen far down the flickering, 
ghostly forms of great fish—fish, as it seemed to me, 
such as naturalist never knew, and which my imagination 
transformed into the genii of that desolate bay. Once, as 
1 stood by the brink of the waters upon a quiet night, 
a great cry, as of a woman in hopeless grief, rose from 
the bosom of the deep, and swelled out upon the still 
air, now sinking and now rising, for a space of thirty 
seconds. This I heard with my own ears. 

In this strange spot, with the eternal hills behind me 
and the eternal sea in front, 1 worked and brooded for 
more than two years unpestered by my fellow men. By 
degrees I had trained my old servant into habits of silence, 
so that she now rarely opened her lips, though I doubt 
not that when twice a year she visited her relations in 
Wick, her tongue during those few days made up for its 
enforced rest. I had come almost to forget that I was 
a member of the human family, and to live entirely with 
the dead whose books I pored over, when a sudden inci- 
dent occurred which threw all my thoughts into a new 
channel. 

Three rough days in June had been succeeded by 
one calm and peaceful one. There was not a breath of 
air that evening. The sun sank down in the west behind 
a line of purple clouds, and the smooth surface of the 
bay was gashed with scarlet streaks. Along the beach the 
‘pools left by the tide showed up like gouts of blood 
against the yellow sand, as if some wounded giant had 
toilfully passed that way, and had left these red traces 
of his grievous hurt behind him, As the darkness closed 
in, certain ragged clouds which had lain low on the 
eastern horizon coalesced and formed a great irregular 


206 A STUDY IN SCARLET 


cumulus. The glass was still low, and I knew that there 
was mischief brewing. About nine o’clock a dull moan- 
ing sound came up from the sea, as from a creature who, 
much harassed, learns that the hour of suffering has come 
round again. At ten a sharp breeze sprang up from 
the eastward. At eleven it had increased to a gale, and 
by midnight the most furious storm was raging which 
I ever remember upon the weather-beaten coast. | 

As I went to bed the shingle and seaweed were pat- 
tering up against my attic window, and the wind was 
screaming as though every gust were a lost soul. By 
that time the sounds of the tempest had become a lull- 
aby to me. I knew that the gray walls of the old 
house would buffet it out, and for what occurred in the 
world outside I had small concern. Old Madge was 
usually as callous to such things as I was myself. It 
was a surprise to me when, about three in the morning, 
I was awakened by the sound of a great knocking at my 
door and excited cries in the wheezy voice of my house- 
keeper. I sprang out of my hammock, and roughly de- 
manded of her what was the matter. 

“Eh, maister! maister! she screamed in her hateful 
dialect. “Come doun, mun; come doun! There’s a 
muckle ship gaun ashore on the reef, and the puir folks 
are a’ yammerin’ and ca’in’ for help—and I doobt they’ll 
a’ be drooned. Oh, Maister M’Vittie, come doun!” 

“Hold your tongue, you hag!” I shouted back in a pas- 
sion. “What is it to you whether they are drowned or 
not? Get back to your bed and leave me alone.” I 
turned in again and drew the blankets over me. ‘“Those 
men out there,’ I said to myself, “have already gone 
through half the horrors of death. If they be saved they 
will but have to go through the same once more in the 
space of a few brief years. It is best, therefore, that 
they should pass away now, since they have suffered that 
anticipation which is more than the pain of dissolution.” 
With this thought in my mind I endeavored to compose 
myself to sleep once more, for that philosophy which had 
taught me to consider death as a small and trivial incident 


A STUDY IN SCARLET 207 


in man’s eternal and ever-changing career, had also broken 
me of much curiosity concerning worldly matters. On 
this occasion I found, however, that the old leaven still 
fermented strongly in my soul. I tossed from side to 
side for some minutes endeavoring to beat down the 
impulses of the moment by the rules of conduct which 
I had framed during months of thought. Then I heard 
a dull roar amid the wild shriek of the gale, and I knew 
that it was the sound of a signal-gun. Driven by an 
uncontrollable impulse, I rose, dressed, and having lighted 
my pipe, walked out on the beach. 

It was pitch dark when I came outside, and the wind 
blew with such violence that I had to put my shoulder 
against it and push my way along the shingle. My face 
pringled and smarted with the sting of the gravel which 
was blown against it, and the red ashes of my pipe 
streamed away behind me, dancing fantastically through 
the darkness. I went down to where the great waves 
were thundering in, and, shading my eyes with my 
hands to keep off the salt spray, 1 peered out to sea. I 
could distinguish nothing, and yet it seemed to me that 
shouts and great inarticulate cries were borne to me by 
the blasts. Suddenly as I gazed I made out the glint of a 
light, and then the whole bay and the beach were lighted 
up in a moment by a vivid blue glare. They were burning 
a colored signal-light on board of the vessel. There she 
lay on her beam-ends, right in the center of the jagged 
reef, hurled over to such an angle that I could see all 
the planking of her deck. She was a large two-masted 
schooner, of foreign rig, and lay perhaps a hundred and 
eighty or two hundred yards from the shore. Every 
spar and rope and writhing piece of cordage showed up 
hard and clear under the livid light which sputtered 
and flickered from the highest portion of the forecastle. 
Beyond the doomed ship out of the great darkness came 
the long rolling lines of black waves, never ending, never 
tiring, with a petulant tuft of foam here and there upon 
their crests. Each, as it reached the broad circle of un- 
natural light, appeared to gather strength and volume and 
to hurry on more impetuously until, with a roar and a 


208 A STUDY IN SCARLET 


jarring crash, it sprang upon its victim. Clinging to the 
weather shrouds I could distinctly see some ten or twelve — 
frightened seamen, who, when their light revealed my 
presence, turned their white faces toward me and waved — 
their hands imploringly. I felt my gorge rise against 
these poor cowaring worms. Why should they presume 
to shirk the narrow pathway along which all that is great 
and noble among mankind has traveled? ‘There was one 
there who interested me more than they. He was a tall 
man, who stood apart from the others, balancing him- 
self upon the swaying wreck, as though he disdained to 
cling to rope or bulwark. His hands were clasped behind 
his back and his head was sunk upon his breast, but 
even in that despondent attitude there was a litheness © 
and decision in his pose and in every motion which 
marked him as a man little likely to yield to despair. 
Indeed, I could see by his occasional rapid glances up. 
and down and all around him that he was weighing every 
chance of safety, but though he often gazed across the 
raging surf to where he could see my dark figure upon 
the beach, his self-respect or some other reason forbid © 
him from imploring my help in any way. He stood, dark, 
silent, and inscrutable, looking down on the black sea, and 
waiting for whatever fortune Fate might send him. 

It seemed to me that that problem would very soon be 
settled. As I looked an enormous billow, topping all 
the others, and coming after them, like a driver follow- 
ing a flock, swept over the vessel. Her foremast snapped — 
short off, and the men who clung to the shrouds were 
brushed away like a swarm of flies. With a rending, 
riving sound the ship began to split in two, where the 
sharp back of the Mansie reef was sawing into her keel. | 
The solitary man upon the forecastle ran rapidly across 
the deck and seized hold of a white bundle which I had al-_ 
ready observed, but failed to make out. As he lifted it up 
the light fell upon it, and I saw that the object was a wo- 
man, with a spar lashed across her body and under her. 
arms in such a way that her head should always rise above 
water. He bore her tenderly to the side and seemed to 
speak for a minute or so to her, as though explaining 


@ 
A STUDY IN SCARLET 209 


the impossibility of remaining on the ship. Her answer 
was a singular one. I saw her deliberately raise her hand 
and strike him across the face with it. He appeared to be 
silenced for a moment or so by this, but he addressed 
her again, directing her, as far as I could gather from his 
motions, how she should behave when in the water. She 
shrank away from him, but he caught her in his arms. 
He stooped over her for a moment and seemed to press 
his lips against her forehead. Then a great wave came 
welling up against the side of the breaking vessel, and 
leaning over he placed her upon the summit of it as gently 
as a child might be committed to its cradle. I saw her 
white dress flickering among the foam on the crest of 
the dark billow, and then the light sank gradually lower, 
and the riven ship and its lonely occupant were hidden 
from my eyes. 

As I watched those things my manhood overcame my 
philosophy, and I felt a frantic impulse to be up and 
doing. I threw my cynicism to one side as a garment 
which I might don again at leisure, and I rushed wildly 
to my boat and my sculls. She was a leaky tub, but 
what then? Was I, who had cast many a wistful, doubt- 
ful glance at my opium bottle, to begin now to weigh 
chances and to cavil at danger? I dragged her down to 
the sea with the strength of a maniac and sprang in. 
For a moment or two it was a question whether she 
could live among the boiling surge, but a dozen frantic 
strokes took me through it half full of water, but still 
afloat. I was out on the unbroken waves now, at one 
time climbing, climbing up the broad black breast of 
one, then sinking down, down on the other side, until, 
looking up, I could see the gleam of the foam all around 
me against the dark heavens. Far behind me I could 
hear the wild wailings of old Madge, who, seeing me 
start, thought no doubt that my madness had come to 
a climax. As I rowed I peered over my shoulder, until 
at last on the belly of a great wave which was sweeping 
toward me I distinguished the vague white outline of the 
woman. Stooping over, I seized her as she swept by 
me, and with an effort lifted her, all sodden with water, 


210 A STUDY IN SCARLET 


into the boat. There was no need to row back, for the 
next billow carried us in and threw us upon the beach. I 
dragged the boat out of danger, and then, lifting up the 
woman, I carried her to the house, followed by my 
housekeeper, loud with congratulation ‘and praise. 

Now that I had done this thing a reaction set in upon 
me. I felt that my burden lived, for I heard the faint 
beat of her heart as I pressed my ear against her side in 
carrying her. Knowing this I threw her down beside the 
fire which Madge had lighted, with as little sympathy as 
though she had been a bundle of faggots. I never 
glanced at her to see if she were fair or no. For many 
years I had cared little for the face of a woman. As I 
lay in my hammock up stairs, however, I heard the old 
woman as she chafed the warmth back into her, crooning 
a chorus of, “Eh, the puir lassie! Eh, the bonnie lassie!” 
from which I gathered that this piece of jetsam was both 
young and comely. 

The morning after the gale was peaceful and sunny. 
As I walked along the sweep of sand I could hear the 
panting of the sea. It was heaving and swirling about 
the reef, but along the shore it rippled in gently enough. 
There was no sign of the schooner, nor was there any 
wreckage upon the beach, which did not surprise me, as 
I knew there was a great undertow in those waters. A 
couple of broad-winged gulls were hovering and skim- 
ming over the scene of the shipwreck, as though many 
strange things were visible to them beneath the waves. 
At times I could hear their raucous voices as they spoke 
to one another of what they saw. 

When I came back from my walk the woman was 
waiting at the door for me. I began to wish when I saw 
her that I had never saved her, for here was an end of 
my privacy. She was very young—at the most nine- 
teen—with a pale, somewhat refined face, yellow hair, 
merry blue eyes, and shining teeth. Her beauty was of 
an ethereal type. She looked so white and light and 
fragile that she might have been the spirit of that storm- 
foam out of which I plucked her. She had wreathed 
some of Madge’s garments round her in a way which 


A STUDY IN SCARLET 211 


was quaint and not unbecoming. As I strode heavily 
up the pathway she put out her hands with a pretty, 
childlike gesture, and ran down toward me, meaning, 
as I surmise, to thank me for having saved her, but I 
put her aside with a wave of my hand and passed her. 
At this she seemed somewhat hurt, and the tears sprang 
into her eyes, but she followed me into the sitting-room 
and watched me wistfully. “What country do you come 
from?” I asked her suddenly. 

She smiled when I spoke, but shook her head. 

“Francais?” I asked. “Deutsch? Espagnol?’ Each 
time she shook her head, and then she rippled off into a 
long statement in some tongue of which I could not under- 
stand one word. 

After breakfast was over, however, I got a clue to her 
nationality. Passing along the beach once more, I saw 
that in a cleft of the ridge a piece of wood had been 
jammed. J rowed out to it in my boat, and brought it 
ashore. It was part of the sternpost of a boat, and on 
it, or rather on the piece of wood attached to it, was 
the word “Archangel,” painted in strange, quaint letter- 
ing. “So,’ I thought, as I paddled slowly back, “this 
pale damsel is a Russian. A fit subject for the White 
Czar and a proper dweller on the shores of the White 
Sea!” It seemed to me strange that one of her apparent 
refinement should perform so long a journey in so frail 
a craft. When I came back into the house I pronounced 
the word “Archangel” several times in different intona- 
tions, but she did not appear to recognize it. 

I shut myself up in the laboratory all the morning, 
continuing a research which I was making upon the 
nature of the allotropic forms of carbon and sulphur. 
When I came out at midday for some food she was sitting 
by the table with a needle and thread, mending some 
rents in her clothes, which were now dry. I resented 
her continued presence, but I could not turn her out on the 
beach to shift for herself. Presently she presented a 
new phase of her character. Pointing to herself and 
then to the scene of the shipwreck, she held up one finger, 
by which I understood her to be asking whether she was 


| 
Ty 
é } 


. | 


212 A STUDY IN SCARLET 


the only one saved. I nodded my head to indicate that | 
she was. On this she sprang out of the chair with a cry 
of great joy, and holding the garment which she was 
mending over her head, and swaying it from side to side 
with the motion of her body, she danced as lightly as a 
feather all around the room, and then out through the 
open door into the sunshine. As she whirled round she 
sang in a plaintive, shrill voice some uncouth, barbarous 
chant, expressive of exultation. 1 called out to her, 
“Come in, you young fiend! come in and be silent!” but 
she went on with her dance. Then she suddenly ran to- 
ward me, and catching my hand before I could pluck it 
away, she kissed it. While we were at dinner she spied 
one of my pencils, and taking it up she wrote the two 
words “Sophie Ramusine” upon a piece of paper, and 
then pointed to herself as a sign that that was her name. 
She handed the pencil to me, evidently expecting that 1 
would be equally communicative, but I put it in my pocket 
as a sign that I wished to hold no intercourse with her. 
Every moment of my life now I regretted the un- 
guarded precipitancy with which I had saved this woman. 
What was it to me whether she had lived or died? I was 
no young, hot-headed youth to do such things. It was 
bad enough to be compelled to have Madge in the house, - 
but she was old and ugly and could be ignored. ‘This 
one was young and lively, and so fashioned as to divert 
attention from graver things. Where could I send her, 
and what could I do with her? If I sent information 
to Wick it would mean that officials and others would 
come to me and pry, and peep, and chatter—a hateful 
thought. It was better to endure her presence than that. 
I soon found that there were fresh troubles in store 
for me. There is no place safe from the swarming, 
restless race of which I am a member. In the evening, 
when the sun was dipping down behind the hills, casting 
them into dark shadow, but gilding the sands and casting 
a great glory over the sea, I went, as is my custom, for a 
stroll along the beach. Sometimes on these occasions 
I took my book with me. I did so on this night, and 
stretching myself upon a sand-dune I composed myself 


A STUDY IN SCARLET 213 


to read. As I lay there I suddenly became aware of a 
shadow which interposed itself between the sun and my- 
self. Looking round, I saw to my great surprise a very 
tall, powerful man, who was standing a few yards off, 
and who, instead of looking at me, was ignoring my exist- 
ence completely, and was gazing over my head with a 
stern, set face at the bay and the black line of the Mansie 
reef. His complexion was dark, with black hair, and 
short, curling beard, a hawklike nose, and golden earrings 
in his ears—the general effect being wild and somewhat 
noble. He wore a faded velveteen jacket, a red flannel 
shirt, and high sea boots, coming half-way up his thighs. 
I recognized him at a glance as being the same man 
who had been left on the wreck the night before. 

“Hullo!” I said, in an aggrieved voice; “you got ashore 
all right, then?” 

“Yes,” he answered, in good English. “It was no doing 
of mine. The waves threw me up. I wish to God I had 
been allowed to drown!” There was a slight foreign 
lisp in his accent which was rather pleasing. “Two good 
fishermen, who live round yonder point, pulled me out 
and cared for me; yet I could not honestly thank them 
for it.” 

“Ho! ho!” thought I, “here is a man of my own kid- 
ney. Why do you wish to be drowned?” I asked. 

“Because,” he cried, throwing out his long arms with a 
passionate, despairing gesture, “there—there in that blue, 
smiling bay lies my soul, my treasure—everything that I 
loved and lived for!” 

“Well, well,’ I said; “people are ruined every day, but 
there’s no use making a fuss about it. Let me inform you 
that this ground on which you walk is my ground, and 
that the sooner you take yourself off it the better pleased 
I shall be. One of you is quite trouble enough.” 

“One of us?” he gasped. 

“Yes—if you could take her off with you I should be 
still more grateful.” 

He gazed at me for a moment as if hardly able to 
tealize what I said, and then with a wild cry he ran away 
from me with prodigious speed and raced along the sands 


214 A STUDY IN SCARLET 


toward my house. Never before or since have I seen 
a human being run so fast. I followed as rapidly as 
I could, furious at this threatened invasion, but long 
before I had reached the house he had disappeared through 
the open door. I heard a great scream from the inside, 
and as I came nearer the sound of a man’s bass voice 
speaking rapidly and loudly. When I looked in the girl, 
Sophie Ramusine, was crouching in a corner, cowering 
away, with fear and loathing expressed on her averted 
face and in every line of her shrinking form. The other, 
with his dark eyes flashing and his outstretched hands 
quivering with emotion, was pouring forth a torrent of 
passionate, pleading words. He made a step forward 
to her as I entered, but she writhed still further away, 
and uttered a sharp cry like that of a rabbit when the 
weasel has him by the throat. : 
“Here!” I said, pulling him back from her. “This is a 
pretty to-do! What do you mean? Do you think this_ 
is a wayside inn or a place of public accommodation?” — 
“Oh, sir,’ he said, “excuse me. This woman is my 
wife, and J feared that she was drowned. You have 
brought me back to life.” 
“Who are you?” I asked roughly. 
“T am a man from Archangel,’ he said simply; “a 
Russian man.” | 
“What is your name?” 
“Ourganeff.”’ : 
“Ourganeff !—and hers is Sophie Ramusine. She is no 
wife of yours. She has no ring.” | 
“We are man and wife in the sight of heaven,” he 
said solemnly, looking upward. “We are bound by higher 
laws than those of earth.” As he spoke the girl slipped 
behind me and caught me by the other hand, pressing 
it, as though beseeching my protection. “Give me up 
my wife, sir,’ he went on. “Let me take her away from 
here.” : 
“Look here, you--whatever your name is,’ I said 
sternly; “I don’t want this wench here. I wish I had 
never seen her. If she died it would be no grief to me. 
But as to handing her over to you, when it is clear she 


A STUDY IN SCARLET 215 


fears and hates you, I won’t do it. So now just clear 
your great body out of this and leave me to my books. 
I hope I may never look upon your face again.” 

“You won't give her up to me?” he said hoarsely. 

“T’ll see you damned first!’ I answered. 

“Suppose I take her?” he cried, his dark face growing 
darker. 

All my tigerish blood flushed up in a moment. I picked 
up a billet of wood from beside the fireplace. “Go,” I 
said, in a low voice; “go quick, or I may do your an in- 
jury.’ He looked at me irresolutely for a moment, and 
then he left the house. He came back again in a moment, 
however, and stood in the doorway looking in at us. 

“Have a heed what you do,” he said. “The woman is 
mine, and I shall have her. When it comes to blows a 
Russian is as good a man as a Scotchman.” 

“We shall see that,” I cried, springing forward, but 
he was already gone, and I could see his tall form moving 
away through the gathering darkness. 

For a month or more after this things went smoothly 
with us. I never spoke to the Russian girl, nor did she 
ever address me. Sometimes when I was at work in my 
laboratory she would slip inside the door and sit silently 
there watching me with her great eyes. At first this in- 
trusion annoyed me, but by degrees, finding that she 
made no attempt to distract my attention, I suffered her to 
remain. Encouraged by this concession, she gradually 
came to move the stool on which she sat nearer and nearer 
to my table, until after gaining a little every day during 
some weeks, she at last worked her way right up to me, 
and used to perch herself beside me whenever I worked. 
In this position she used, still without ever obtruding 
her presence in any way, to make herself very useful by 
holding my pens, test-tubes, or bottles, and handing me 
whatever I wanted, with never-failing sagacity. By ig- 
noring the fact of her being a human being, and looking 
upon her as a useful automatic machine, I accustomed 
myself to her presence so far as to miss her on the few 
occasions when she was not at her post. I have a habit 
of talking aloud to myself at times when I work, so as to 


216 A STUDY IN SCARLET 


fix my results better in my mind. The girl must have had 
a surprising memory for sounds, for she could always 
repeat the words which [I let fall in this way, withdut, 
of course, understanding in the least what they meant. 
I have often been amused at hearing her discharge a 
volley of chemical equations and algebraic symbols at old 
Madge, and then burst into a ringing laugh when the 
crone would shake her head, under the impression, no 
doubt, that she was being addressed in Russian. 

She never went more than a few. yards from the 
house, and indeed never put her foot over the threshold 
without looking carefully out of each window in order 
to be sure that there was nobody about. By this I knew 
that she suspected that her fellow-countryman was still 
in the neighborhood, and feared that he might attempt to 
carry her off. She did something else which was signifi- 
cant. I had an old revolver with some cartridges, which 
had been thrown away among the rubbish. She found 
this one day, and at once proceeded to clean it and oil it. 
She hung it up near the door, with the cartridges in a 
little bag beside it, and whenever I went for a walk she 
would take it down and insist upon my carrying it with 
me. In my absence she would always bolt the door, 
Apart from her apprehensions she seemed fairly happy, 
busying herself in helping Madge when she was not at- 
tending upon me. She was wonderfully nimble- fingered 
and natty in all domestic duties. 

It was not long before I discovered that her suspicions 
were well founded, and that this man from Archangel 
was still lurking in the vicinity. Being restless one 
night, I rose and peered out of the window. The weather 
was somewhat cloudy, and I could barely make out the 
line of the sea and the loom of my boat upon the beach. 
As I gazed, however, and my eyes became accustomed 
to the obscurity, I became aware that there was some 
other dark blur upon the sands, and that in front of my 
very door, where certainly there had been nothing of 
the sort the preceding night. As I stood at my diamond- 
paned lattice still peering and peeping to make out what 
this might be, a great bank of clouds rolled slowly away 


A STUDY IN SCARLET 217 


from the face of the moon, and a flood of cold, clear 
light was poured down upon the silent bay and the long 
sweep of its desolate shores. Then I saw what this was 
which haunted my doorstep. It was he, the Russian. 
He squatted there like a gigantic toad, with his legs dou- 
bled under him in strange Mongolian fashion, and his 
eyes fixed apparently upon the window of the room in 
which the young girl and the housekeeper slept. The 
light fell upon his upturned face, and I saw once more 
the hawklike grace of his countenance, with the single 
deeply indented line of care upon his brow, and the pro- 
truding beard which marks the passionate nature. My 
first impulse was to shoot him as a trespasser, but as I 
gazed my resentment changed into pity and contempt. 
“Poor fool!’ I said to myself, “‘is it, then, possible that 
you, whom I have seen looking open-eyed at present 
death, should have your whole thoughts and ambition cen- 
tered upon this wretched slip of a girl—a girl, too, who 
flies from you and hates you? Most women would love 
you—were it but for that dark face and great, handsome 
body of yours—and yet you must needs hanker after the 
one in a thousand who will have no traffic with you.” 
As I returned to my bed I chuckled much to myself over 
this thought. I knew that my bars were strong and my 
bolts thick. It mattered little to me whether this strange 
man spent his night at my door or a hundred leagues 
off, so long as he was gone by morning. As I expected, 
when I rose and went out there was no sign of him, 
nor had he left any trace of his midnight vigil. 

It was not long, however, before I saw him again. I 
had been out for a row one morning, for my head was 
aching, partly from prolonged stooping, and partly from 
the effects of a noxious drug which I had inhaled the 
night before. I pulled along the coast some miles, and 
then, feeling thirsty, I landed at a place where I knew 
that a fresh water stream trickled down into the sea. 
This rivulet passed through my land, but the mouth of 
it, where I found myself that day, was beyond my boun- 
dary line. I felt somewhat taken aback when, rising 
from the stream at which I had slaked my thirst, I found 


218 A STUDY IN SCARLET 


myself face to face with the Russian. I was as much 
a trespasser now as he was, and I could see at a glance 
that he knew it. 

“T wish to speak a few words to you,” he said gravely. 

“Hurry up, then!’ I answered, glancing at my watch. 
“T have no time to listen to chatter.” | 

“Chatter!” he repeated angrily. “Ah, but there. You 
Scotch people are strange men. Your face is hard and 
your words rough, but so are those of the good fisher- 
men with whom I stay, yet I find that beneath it all there 
lie kind, honest natures. No doubt you are kind and 
good, too, in spite of your roughness,” 

“In the name of the devil,” I said, “say your say, and 
go your way. I am weary of the sight of you!” 

“Can I not soften you in any way?” he cried. “Ah, see 
—see here’—he produced a small Grecian cross from 
inside his velvet jacket. “Look at this. Our religions — 
may differ in form, but at least we have some common 
thoughts and feelings when we see this emblem.” 

“IT am not so sure of that,” I answered. 

He looked at me thoughtfully. 

“You are a very strange man,” he said at last. “T 
cannot understand you. You still stand between me and 
Sophie. It is a dangerous position to take, sir. Oh, 
believe me, before it is too late. If you did but know 
what I have done to gain that woman—how I have risked 
my body, have I have lost my soul! You are a small 
obstacle to some which I have surmounted—you, whom 
a rip of a knife, or a blow from a stone, would put out 
of my way forever. But God preserve me from that,” he 
cried wildly. “I am deep—too deep—already. Anything 
rather than that.” 

“You would do better to go back to your country,” 
I said, “than to skulk about these sand-hills and disturb 
my leisure. When I have proof that you have gone away 
I shall hand this woman over to the protection of the 
Russian consul at Edinburgh. Until then I shall guard 
her myself, and not you, nor any Muscovite that ever 
breathed, shall take her from me!” ; 

“And what is your object in keeping Sophie from me?” 


A STUDY IN SCARLET 219 


he asked. “Do you imagine that I would injure her? 
Why, man, I-would give my life freely to save her 
from the slightest harm. Why do you do this thing?” 

“T do it because it is my good pleasure to act so,” 
I answered. “I give no man reasons for my conduct.” 

“Look here!’ he cried, suddenly blazing into fury, and 
advancing toward me with his shaggy mane bristling and 
his brown hands clenched, “if I thought you had one 
dishonest thought toward this girl—if for a moment I 
had reason to believe you had any base motive for de- 
taining her—as sure as there is a God in heaven I should 
drag the heart out of your bosom with my hands.” 
The very idea seemed to have put the man in a: frenzy, 
for his face was all distorted and his hands opened and 
shut convulsively. I thought that he was about to spring 
at my throat. 

“Stand off,’ I said, putting my hand on my pistol. 
“Tf you lay a finger on me [ shall kill you.” 

He put his hand into his pocket, and for a moment I 
thought he was about to produce a weapon, too, but in- 
stead of that he whipped out a cigarette and lighted it, 
breathing the smoke rapidly into his lungs. No doubt 
he had found by experience that this was the most effec- 
tual way of curbing his passions. 

“T told you,’ he said in a quieter voice, “that my 
name is Ourganefit—Alexis Ourganeff. I am a Finn by 
birth, but I have spent my life in every part of the world. 
I was one who could never be still, nor settle down to a 
quiet existence. After I came to own my own ship there 
is hardly a port from Archangel to Australia which I 
have not entered. I was rough and wild and free, but 
there was one at home, sir, who was prim and white- 
handed and soft-tongued, skillful in little fancies and 
conceits which women love. This youth by his wiles and 
tricks stole from me the love of the girl whom I had 
ever marked as my own, and who up to that time had 
seemed in some sort inclined to return my passion. I had 
been on a voyage to Hammerfest for ivory, and coming 
back unexpectedly I learned that my pride and treasure 
was to be married to this soft-skinned boy, and that the 


220 A STUDY IN SCARLET 


party had actually gone to the church. In such moments, 
sir, something gives way in my head, and I hardly know — 

what I do. 1 landed with a boat’s crew—all men who 

had sailed with-me for years, and who were as true age 
steel. We went up to the church. They were standing, - : 
she and he, before the priest, but the thing had not been 
done. I dashed between them and caught her round the ( 
waist. My men beat back the frightened bridegroom and 

the lookers-on. We bore her down to the boat and 

aboard our vessel, and then getting up anchor we sailed 

away across the White Sea until the spires of Arch. 
angel sank down behind the horizon. She had my cabin, 
my room, every comfort. I slept among the men in the | : 
forecastle. I hoped that in time her aversion to me would — 

wear away, and that she would consent to marry me in 

England or France. For days and days we sailed. We 

saw the North Cape die away behind us, and we skirted 

the gray Norwegian coast, but still, in spite of every” 

attention, she would not forgive me for tearing her from 

that pale- ‘faced lover of hers. Then came this cursed storm | 

which shattered both my ship and my hopes, and has” 

deprived me even of the sight of the woman for whom I 

have risked so much. Perhaps she may learn to love me 
yet. You, sir,’ he said wistfiilly, “look like one who 

has seen much of the world. Do you not think that she | 

may come to forget this man and to love me?” 

“Tt am tired of your story,” I said, turning away. “For : 
my part, I thinks you are a great fool. If you imagine — 
that this love of yours will pass away you have best amuse — 
yourself as best you can until it does. If, on the other 
hand, it is a fixed thing, you cannot do better than cut 
your throat, for that is the shortest way out of it. I 
have no more time to waste on the matter.” With this 
It hurried away and walked down to the boat. I never 
looked round, but I heard the dull sound of his feet upon 
the sands as he followed me. | 

“I have told you the beginning of my story,” he said, 

“and you shall know the end some day. You would 
do well to let the girl go.’ 

I never answered him, but pushed the boat off. When 


A STUDY IN SCARLET 221’ 


I had rowed some distance out I looked back and saw 
his tall figure upon the yellow sand as he stood gazing 
thoughtfully after me. When I looked again some min- 
utes later he had disappeared. 

For a long time after this my life was as regular and 
as monotonous as it had been before the shipwreck. At 
times I hoped that the man from Archangel had gone 
away altogether, but certain footsteps which I saw upon 
the sand, and more particularly a little pile of cigarette ash 
which I found one day behind a hillock from which a 
view of the house might be obtained, warned me that, 
though invisible, he was still in the vicinity. My rela- 
tions with the Russian girl remained the same as before. 
Old Madge had been somewhat jealous of her presence 
at first, and seemed to fear what little authority she had 
would be taken away from her. By degrees, however, as 
she came to realize my utter indifference, she became 
reconciled to the situation, and, as I have said before, 
profited by it, as our visitor performed much of the do- 
mestic work. 

And now I am coming near the end of this narrative 
of mine, which I have written a great deal more for my 
own amusement than for that of any one else. The 
termination of the strange episode in which these two 
Russians had played a part was as wild and as sudden 
as the commencement. ‘The events of one single night 
freed me from all my troubles, and left me once more 
alone with my books and my studies, as I had been before 
their intrusion. Let me endeavor to describe how this 
came about. 

I had had a long day of heavy and wearying work, so 
that in the evening I determined upon taking a long walk. 
When I emerged from the house my attention was at- 
tracted by the appearance of the sea. It lay like a sheet of 
glass, so that never a ripple disturbed its surface. Yet 
the air was filled with that indescribable moaning sound 
which I have alluded to before—a sound as though the 
‘spirits of all those who lay beneath those treacherous 
waters were sending a sad warning of coming troubles 
to their brethren in the flesh. The fishermen’s wives 


222 A STUDY IN SCARLET 


along that coast know the eerie sound, and look anxiously 
across the waters for the brown sails making for the 
land. When I heard it I stepped back into the house and 
looked at the glass. It was down below 29°, Then I 
knew that a wild night was coming upon us. 

Underneath the hills where I walked that evening it 
was dull and chill, but their summits were rosy-red, and 
the sea was brightened by the sinking sun, There were 
no clouds of importance in the sky, yet the dull groaning 
of the sea grew louder and stronger. I saw, far to the 
eastward, a brig beating up for Wick, with a reef in 
her topsails. It was evident that her captain had read the 
signs of nature as I had done. Behind her a long, lurid 
haze lay low upon the water, concealing the horizon. “I 
had better push on,” I thought to myself, “or the wind. 
may rise before I can get back.” i 

I suppose I must have been at least half a mile from 
the house when I suddenly stopped and listened breath-_ 
lessly. My ears were so accustomed to the noises of 
nature, the sighing of the breeze and the sob of the 
waves, that any other sound made itself heard at a great 
distance. I waited, listening with all my ears. Yes, 
there it was again—a long-drawn, shrill cry of despair, 
ringing over the sands and echoed back from the hills 
behind me—a piteous appeal for aid. It came from the 
direction of my house. I turned and ran back homeward 
at the top of my speed, plowing through the sand, racing 
over the shingle. In my mind there was a great dim per-_ 
ception of what had) occurred. : 

About a quarter of,a mile from the house there is a 
high sand-hill, from which the whole country round is 
visible. When I reached the top of this I paused for a 
moment. There was the old gray building—there the 
boat. Everything seemed to be as I had left it. Even 
as I gazed, however, the shrill scream was repeated, 
louder than before, and the next moment a tall figure 
emerged from my door, the figure of the Russian sailor. 
Over his shoulder was the white form of the young girl, 
and even in his haste he seemed to bear her tenderly and 
with gentle reverence. 1 could hear her wild cries and 


A STUDY IN SCARLET 223 


see her desperate struggles to break away from him. 
Behind the couple came my old housekeeper, staunch 
and true, as the aged dog, who can no longer bite, still 
snarls with toothless gums at the intruder. She stag- 
gered feebly along at the heels of the ravisher, waving 
her long, thin arms, and hurling, no doubt, volleys of 
Scotch curses: and imprecations at his head. I saw at 
a glance‘that he was making for the boat. A sudden hope 
sprang up in my soul that I might be in time to inter- 
cept him. I ran for the beach at the top of my speed. 
As I ran I slipped a cartridge into my revolver. ‘This, 
I determined, should be the last of these invasions. 

I was too late. By the time I reached the water’s edge 
he was a hundred yards away, making the boat spring 
with every stroke of his powerful arms. I uttered a wild 
cry of impotent anger, and stamped up and down the 
sands like a maniac. He turned and saw me. Rising 
from his seat he made me a graceful bow, and waved his 
hand to me. It was not a triumphant or a derisive ges- 
ture. Even my furious and distempered mind recognized 
it as being a solemn and courteous leave-taking. Then 
he settled down to his oars once more, and the little skiff 
shot away over the bay. The sun had gone down now, 
leaving a single dull, red streak upon the water, which 
stretched away until it blended with the purple haze on 
the horizon. Gradually the skiff grew smaller and 
smaller as it sped across this lurid band, until the shades 
of night gathered round it and it became a mere blur 
upon the lonely sea. Then this vague loom died away also 
and darkness settled over it—a darkness which should 
never more be raised. 

And why did I pace the solitary shore, hot and wrath- 
ful as a wolf whose whelp has been torn from it? Was 
it that I loved this Muscovite girl? No—a thousand 
times no! JI am not one who, for the sake~of a white 
skin or a blue eye, would belie my own life, and change 
the whole tenor of my thoughts and existence. My heart 
was untouched. But my pride—ah, there I had been 
cruelly wounded. To think that I had been unable to af- 
ford protection to the helpless one who craved it of me, 


224: A STUDY IN SCARLET 


and who relied on me! It was that which made my heart 
sick and sent the blood buzzing through my ears. i 
That night a great wind rose up from the sea, and the 
wild waves shrieked upon the shore as though they would | 
tear it back with them into the ocean. The turmoil and 
the uproar were congenial to my vexed spirit. All night 
I wandered up and down, wet with spray and rain, watch- 
ing the gleam of the white breakers and listening to the 
outcry of the storm. My heart was bitter against the 
Russian. I joined my feeble pipe to the screaming of the 
gale. “If he would but come back again!” I cried with 
clenched hands; “if he would but come back!’ | 
He came back. When the gray light of morning spread 
over the eastern sky, and lighted up the great waste of 
yellow, tossing waters, with the brown clouds drifting 
swiftly over them, then I saw him once again. A few 
hundred yards off along the sand there lay a long, dark 
object, cast up by the fury of the waves. It was my 
boat, much shattered and splintered. A little further 
on, a vague, shapeless something was washing to and 
fro in the shallow water, all mixed with shingle and with 
seaweed. I saw at a glance that it was the Russian, face 
downward and dead. I rushed into the water and dragged 
him up onto the beach. It was only when I turned him 
over that I discovered that she was beneath him, his 
dead arms encircling her, his mangled body still inter- 
vening between her and the fury of the storm. It seemed 
that the fierce German Sea might beat the life out from 
him, but with all its strength it was unable to tear this 
one-idea’d man from the woman whom he loved. There 
were signs which led me to believe that during that awful 
night the woman’s fickle mind had come at last to learn the 
worth of the true heart and the strong arm which strug- 
gled for her and guarded her so tenderly. Why else 
should her little head be nestling so lovingly on his broad 
breast, while her yellow hair entwined itself with his 
flowing beard? Why, too, should there be that bright 
smile of ineffable happiness and triumph, which death it- 
self had not had-power to banish from his dusky face? I 


A STUDY IN SCARLET 225 


fancy that death had been brighter to him than life had 
ever been. 

Madge and I buried them there on the shores of the 
desolate northern sea. They lie in one grave, deep down 
beneath the yellow sand. Strange things may happen 
in the world around them. Empires may rise and fall, 
dynasties may perish, great wars may come and go, but, 
heedless of it all, those two shall embrace each other 
for ever and aye in their lonely shrine by the side of the 
sounding ocean. I sometimes have thought that their 
spirits flit like shadowy sea-mews over the wild waters 
of the bay. No cross or symbol marks their resting- 
place, but old Madge puts wild flowers on it at times, 
and when I pass on my daily walk and see the fresh blos- 
soms scattered over the sand, I think of the strange couple 
who came from afar, and broke for a little space the 
dull tenor of my somber life. 


THAT LITTLE SQUARE BOX 


“Au aboard ?” said the captain. 

“All aboard, sir!’ said the mate. 

“Then stand by to let her go.” 

It was nine o’clock on a Wednesday morning. The 
good ship “Spartan” was lying off Boston Quay with 
her cargo under hatches, her passengers shipped, and 
everything prepared for a start. The warning whistle 
had been sounded twice; the final bell had been rung. 
Her bowsprit was turned toward England, and the hiss 
of escaping steam showed that all was ready for her run 
of three thousand miles. She strained at the warps that 
held her like a greyhound at its leash. 

I have the misfortune to be a very nervous man. A 
sedentary literary life has helped to increase the morbid 
love of solitude which, even in my boyhood, was one of 
my distinguishing characteristics. As I stood upon the 
quarter-deck of the transatlantic steamer I bitterly cursed 
the necessity which drove me back to the land of my 
forefathers. The shouts of the sailors, the rattle of the 
cordage, the farewells of my fellow-passengers, and the 


226 A STUDY IN SCARLET 


cheers of the mob, each and all jarred upon my sensitive 
nature. I felt sad, too. An indescribable feeling, as of 
some impending calamity, seemed to haunt me. The sea 
was calm, and the breeze light. There was nothing to 
disturb the equanimity of the most confirmed of landsmen, 
yet I felt as if I stood upon the verge of a great though 
indefinable danger. I have noticed that such presentiments 
occur often in men of my peculiar temperament, and that 
they are not uncommonly fulfilled. There is a theory 
that it arises from a species of second-sight, a subtle 
spiritual communication with the future. I well remem- 
ber that Herr Raumer, the eminent spiritualist, remarked 
on one occasion that I was the most sensitive subject as 
regards supernatural phenomena that he had ever en- 
countered in the whole of his wide experience. Be that as 
it may, I certainly felt far from happy as I threaded my 
way among the weeping, cheering groups which dotted 
the white decks of the good ship “Spartan.” Had I 
known the experience which awaited me in the course of 
the next twelve hours I should even then at the last mo- 
ment have sprung upon the shore, and made my escape 
from the accursed vessel. 

“Time’s up!” said the captain, closing his chronometer 
with a snap, and replacing it in his pocket. “Time’s up!” 
said the mate. There was a last wail from the whistle, 
a rush of friends and relatives upon the land. One warp 
was loosened, the gangway was being pushed away, when 
there was a shout from the bridge, and two men ap- 
peared, running rapidly down the quay. They were 
waving their hands and making frantic gestures, appar- 
ently with the intention of stopping the ship. “Look 
sharp!’ shouted the crowd. “Hold hard!’ cried the 
captain. “Ease her! stop her! Up with the gangway!” 
and the two men sprang aboard just as the second warp 
parted, and a convulsive throb of the engine shot us 
clear of the shore. There was a cheer from the deck, 
another from the quay, a mighty fluttering of handker- 
chiefs, and the great vessel plowed its way out of the 
harbor and steamed grandly away across the placid bay. 

We were fairly started upon our fortnight’s voyage. 


A STUDY IN SCARLET 227 


There was a general dive among the passengers in quest 
of berths and luggage, while a popping of corks in the 
saloon proved that more than one rebeaved traveler was 
adopting artificial means for drowning the pangs of sep- 
aration. I glanced round the deck and took a running in- 
ventory of my compagnons de voyage. They presented 
the usual types met with upon these occasions. There was 
no striking face among them. I speak as a connoisseur, 
for faces are a specialty of mine. I pounce upon a char- 
acteristic feature as a botanist does on a flower, and bear 
it away with me to analyze at my leisure, and classify 
and label it in my little anthropological museum. There 
was nothing worthy of me here. Twenty types of young 
America going to “Yurrup,’ a few respectable middle- 
aged couples as an antidote, a sprinkling of clergymen and 
professional men, young ladies, bagmen, British exclu- 
sives, and all the olla podrida of an ocean-going steamer. 
I turned away from them and gazed back at the reced- 
ing shores of America, and, as a cloud of remembrances 
rose before me, my heart warmed toward the land of my 
adoption. A pile of pormanteaus and luggage chanced 
to be lying on one side of the deck, awaiting their turn 
to be taken below. With my usual love for solitude I 
walked behind these, and sitting on a coil of rope be- 
tween them and the vessel’s side, I indulged in a melan- 
choly reverie. 

I was aroused from this by a whisper behind me. 
“Here’s a quiet place,’ said the voice. “Sit down, and 
we can talk it over in safety.” 

Glancing through a chink between two colossal chests, 
I saw that the passengers who had joined us at the last 
moment were standing at the other side of the pile. They 
had evidently failed to see me as I crouched in the shadow 
of the boxes. The one who had spoken was a tall and 
very thin man, with a blue-black beard and a colorless 
face. His manner was nervous and excited. His compan- 
ion was a short, plethoric little fellow, with a brisk and 
‘resolute air. He had a cigar in his mouth, and a large 
ulster slung over his left arm. They both glanced round 


228 A STUDY IN SCARLET 


uneasily, as if to ascertain whether they were alone. “This - 
is just the place,” I heard the other say. They sat down 
on a bale of goods, with their backs turned toward me, 
and I found myself, much against my will, playing the 
unpleasant part of eavesdropper to their conversation. 

“Well, Muller,” said the taller of the two, “we've got 
it aboard right enough.” | 

“Ves,” assented the man whom he had addressed as 
Muller; “it’s safe aboard.” 

“It was rather a near go.” 

“It was that, Flannigan.” 

“It wouldn’t have done to have missed the ship.” 

“No; it would have put our plans out.” ‘ 

“Ruined them entirely,” said the little man, and puffed 
furiously at his cigar for some minutes, 

“T’ve got it here,’ he said at last. 

“Let me see it.” 

“Ts no one looking 2?” 

“No; they are nearly all below.” : 

“We can’t be too careful where so much is at stake,” 
said Muller, as he uncoiled the ulster which hung over 
his arm, and disclosed a dark object which he laid upon 
the deck. One glance as it was enough to cause me 
spring to my feet with an exclamation of horror. Luck- 
ily they were so engrossed in the matter on hand that 
neither of them observed me. Had they turned their 
heads they would infallibly have seen my pale face glar- 
ing at them over the pile of boxes. ! 

From the first moment of their conversation a horri- 
ble misgiving had come over me. It seemed more than. 
confirmed as I gazed at what lay before me. It was a little 
square box made of some dark wood, and ribbed with 
brass. I suppose it was about the size of a cubic, foot. 
It reminded me of a pistol-case, only it was decidedly 
higher. There was an appendage to it, however, on which 
my eyes were riveted, and which suggested ‘the pistol 
itself rather than its receptacle. This was a trigger-like 
arrangement upon the lid, to which a coil of string was 
attached. Beside this trigger was a small aperture 


A STUDY IN SCARLET 229 


through the wood. The tall man, Flannigan, as his com- 
panion called him, applied his eye to this, and peered 
in for several minutes with an expression of intense 
anxiety upon his face. 

“Tt seems right enough,” he said at last. 

“I tried not to shake it,” said his companion, 

“Such delicate things need delicate treatment. Put in 
some of the needful, Muller.” 

The shorter man fumbled in his pocket for some time, 
and then produced a small paper packet. He opened this, 
and took out of it half a handful of whitish granules, 
which he poured down through the hole. A curious click- 
ing noise followed from inside of the box, and both the 
men smiled in a satisfied way. 

“Nothing much wrong there,” said Flannigan. 

“Right as a trivet,’ answered his companion. 

“Look out! here’s some one coming. Take it down to 
our berth. It wouldn’t do to have any one suspecting 
what our game is, or, worse still, to have them fumbling 
with it, and letting it off by mistake.” 

“Well, it would come to the same, whoever let it off,” 
said Muller. 

“They'd be rather astonished if they pulled the trig- 
ger,” said the taller, with a sinister laugh. “Ha! ha! 
fancy their faces! It’s not a bad bit of workmanship, 
I flatter myself.” 

“No,” said Muller. “I hear it is your own design, 
every bit of it, isn’t it?” 

“Yes, and the spring and sliding shutter are my own.” 

“We should take out a patent.” 

_ And the two men laughed again with a cold, harsh 
laugh, as they took up the little brass-bound package and 
‘concealed it in Muller’s voluminous overcoat. 

“Come down, and we'll stow it in our berth,” said 
Flannigan. “We won’t need it until to-night, and it will 
be safe there.” 

His companion assented, and the two went arm-in-arm 
along the deck and disappeared down the hatchway, bear- 
ing the mysterious little box away with them. The last 


230 A STUDY IN SCARLET 


words I heard were a muttered injunction from Flannigan 
to carry it carefully, and avoid knocking it against the 
bulwarks. 

How long I remained sitting on that coil of rope I 
shall never know. The horror of the conversation I had 
just overheard was aggravated by the first sinking qualms 
of sea-sickness. The long roll of the Atlantic was be- 
ginning to assert itself over both ship and passengers. 
I felt prostrate in mind and body, and fell into a state of 
collapse, from which I was finally aroused by the hearty 
voice of our worthy quartermaster. | 

“Do you mind moving out of that, sir?” he said. “We 
want to get this lumber cleared off the deck.” 

His bluff manner and ruddy, healthy faced seemed to 
be a positive insult to me in my present condition. Had — 
I been a courageous or a muscular man I could have 
struck him. As it was, I treated the honest sailor to a 
melodramatic scowl, which seemed to cause him no small 
astonishment, and strode past him to the other side of 
the deck. Solitude was what 1 wanted—solitude in which 
I could brood over the frightful crime which was being 
hatched before my very eyes. One of the quarter-boats 
was hanging rather low down upon the davits. An idea 
struck me, and climbing on the bulwarks, I stepped into 
the empty boat and lay down in the bottom of it. 
Stretched on my back, with nothing but the blue sky 
above me, and an occasional view of the mizzen as the 
vessel rolled, I was at least alone with my sickness and 
my thoughts. 

I tried to recall the words which had been spoken in 
the terrible dialogue I had overheard. Would they admit 
of any construction but the one which stared me in the 
face? My reason forced me to confess that they would 
not. I endeavored to array the various facts which 
formed the chain of circumstantial evidence, and to find 
a flaw in it—but no, not a link was missing. There was 
the strange way in which our passengers had come aboard, 
enabling them to evade any examination of their luggage. 
The very name of ‘“Flannigan’” smacked of Fenianism, 


A STUDY IN SCARLET 231 


while “Muller” suggested nothing but socialism and mur- 
der. Then their mysterious manner; their remark that 
their plans would have been ruined had they missed the 
ship; their fear of being observed; last, but not least, 
the clinching evidence in the production of the little 
square box with the trigger, and their grim joke about 
the face of the man who should let it off by mistake— 
could these facts lead to any conclusion other than that 
they were the desperate emissaries of some body, political 
or otherwise, who intended to sacrifice themselves, their 
fellow-passengers and the ship in one great holocaust? 
The whitish granules which I had seen one of them pour 
into the box formed, no doubt, a fuse or train for ex- 
ploding it. I had myself heard a sound come from it 
which might have emanated from some delicate piece of 
machinery. But what did they mean by their allusion 
to to-night? Could it be that they contemplated putting 
their horrible design into execution on the very first 
evening of our voyage? The mere thought of it sent a 
cold shudder over me, and made me for a moment su- 
perior even to the agonies of seasickness. 

I have remarked that I am a physical coward. I am 
a moral one, also. It is seldom that the two defects are 
united to such a degree in the one character. I have 
known many men who were most sensitive to bodily 
danger, and yet were distinguished for the independence 
and strength of their minds. In my own case, however, 
I regret to say that my quiet and retiring habits had fos- 
tered a nervous dread of doing anything remarkable of 
making myself conspicuous, which exceeded, if possible, 
my fear of personal peril. An ordinary mortal placed 
under the circumstances in which I now found myself 
would have gone at once to the captain, confessed his 
fears, and put the matter into his hands. To me, how- 
ever, constituted as I am, the idea was most repugnant. 
The thought of becoming the observed of all observers, 
cross-questioned by a stranger, and confronted with two 
desperate conspirators in the character of a denouncer, 
was hateful to me. Might it not by some remote pos- 


232 A STUDY IN SCARLET 


sibility prove that I was mistaken? What would be 
my feelings if there should turn out to be no grounds 
for my accusation? No, I would procrastinate; | would — 
keep my eye on the two desperadoes and dog them at 
every turn. Anything was better than the possibility of — 
being wrong. | 
Then it struck me that even at that moment some new — 
phase of the conspiracy might be developing itself. The 
nervous excitement seemed to have driven away by in-— 
cipient attack of sickness, for I was able to stand up 
and lower myself from the boat without experiencing 
any return of it. I staggered along the deck with the 
intention of descending into the cabin and finding how my — 
acquaintances of the morning were occupying themselves. — 
Just as I had my hand on the companion-rail. I was as- 
tonished by receiving a hearty slap on the back, which 
nearly shot me down the steps with more haste than 
dignity. | 
“Is that you, Hammond?” said a voice which I seemed 
to recognize. i 
“God bless me,’ I said, as I turned round, “it can’t — 
be Dick Merton! Why, how are you, old man?” a 
This was an unexpected piece of luck in the midst of © 
my perplexities. Dick was just the man I wanted; kindly ~ 
and shrewd in his nature, and prompt in his.actions, I 
should have no difficulty in telling him my suspicions, © 
and could rely upon his sound sense to point out the 
best course to pursue. Since I was a little lad in the 
second form at Harrow, Dick had been my adviser and — 
protector. He saw at a glance that something had gone . 
wrong with me. 3 
“Hullo! he said, in his kindly way, “what’s put you 
about, Hammond? You look as white as a sheet. Mal 
de mer, eh?” A 
“No, not that altogether,” said I. “Walk up and down > 
with me, Dick; I want to speak to you. Give me your 
arm. i 
Supporting myself on Dick’s stalwart frame, I tottered — 
along by his side; but it was some time before I could 
muster resolution to speak. " 


A STUDY IN SCARLET 233 


“Have a cigar?” said he, breaking silence. 

“No, thanks,” said I. “Dick, we shall all be corpses 
to-night.” 

“That’s no reason against your having a cigar now,” 
said Dick, in his cool way, but looking hard at me from 
under his shaggy eyebrows as he spoke. He evidently 
thought that my intellect was a little gone. 

“No,” I continued, “it’s no laughing matter, and I 
speak in sober earnest, I assure you. I have discovered 
an infamous conspiracy, Dick, to destroy this ship and 
every soul that is in her.” And I then proceeded sys- 
tematically, and in order, to lay before him the chain 
of evidence which I had collected. “There, Dick,” I 
said, as I concluded, “what do you think of that? and, 
above all, what am I to do?” 

To my astonishment he burst into a hearty fit of 
laughter. 

“T’d be frightened,” he said, “if any fellow but you had 
told me as much. You always had a way, Hammond, of 
discovering mares’ nests. I like to see the old traits 
breaking out again. Do you remember at school how you 
swore there was a ghost in the long room, and how it 
turned out to be your own reflection in the mirror? Why, 
man,” he continued, “what object would any one have in 
destroying this ship? We have no great political guns 
aboard. On the contrary, the majority of the passen- 
gers are Americans. Besides, in this sober nineteenth 
century, the most wholesale murderers stop at including 
themselves among their victims. Depend upon it, you 
have misunderstood them, and have mistaken a photo- 
graphic camera, or something equally innocent, for an 
infernal machine.” 

“Nothing of the sort, sir,’ said I, rather touchily. 
You will learn to your cost, I fear, that I have neither 
exaggerated nor misinterpreted a word. As to the box, 
I have certainly never before seen one like it. It con- 
tained delicate machinery; of that I am convinced, from 
the way in which the men handled it and spoke of it.” 

“You’d make out every packet of perishable goods to 


234 A STUDY IN SCARLET 


be a torpedo,” said Dick, “af that is to be your only test.” — 

“The man’s name was Flannigan,”’ I continued. 

“T don’t think that would go very far in a court of © 
law,” said Dick; “but come, I have finished my cigar. — 
Suppose we go down together and split a bottle of claret. © 
You can point out these two Orsinis to me if they are 
still in the cabin.” 

“All right,” I answered; ‘I am determined not to lose 
sight of them all day. Don’t look hard at them, though, 
for I don’t want them to think that they are being © 
watched,” 

“Trust me,” said Dick; “Tl look as unconscious and 
guileless as a lamb.” And with that we passed down 
the companion and into the saloon. 

A good many passengers were scattered about the great — 
central table, some wrestling with refractory carpet-bags 
and rug-straps, some having their luncheon, and a few ~ 
reading and otherwise amusing themselves. The objects 
of our quest were not there. We passed down the room ~ 
and peered into every berth, but there was no sign of 
them. “Heavens!” thought I, “perhaps at this very 
moment they are beneath our feet, in the hold or engine- 
room, preparing their diabolical contrivance!” It was 
better to know the worst than to remain in such sus- 
pense. 

“Steward,” said Dick, “are there any other gentlemen 
about ?” 

“There’s two in the smoking-room, sir,’ answered the 
steward. 

The smoking-room was a little snuggery,. luxuriously 
fitted up; and adjoining the pantry. We pushed the door 
open and entered. A sigh of relief escaped from my 
bosom. ‘The very first object on which my eye rested — 
was the cadaverous face of Flannigan, with its hard-set 
mouth and unwinking eye. His companion sat opposite to 
him. They were both drinking, and a pile of cards 
lay. upon the, table. They were engaged in playing as — 
we entered. I nudged Dick to show him that we had 
found our quarry, and we sat down beside them with as 


A STUDY IN SCARLET 235 


unconcerned an air as possible. The two conspirators 
seemed to take little notice of our presence. I watched 
them both narrowly. The game at which they were play- 
ing was “Napoleon.” Both were adepts at it, and I could 
not help admiring the consummate nerve of the men who, 
with such a secret at their hearts, could devote their, 
minds to the manipulating of a long suit or the finessing 
of a queen. Money changed hands rapidly, but the run 
of luck seemed to be all against the taller of the two 
players. At last he threw down his cards on the table 
with an oath, and refused to go on. 

“No, I’m hanged if I do,” he said; “I haven’t had 
more than two of a suit for five hands.” 

“Never mind,” said his comrade, as he gathered up 
his winnings; “a few dollars one way or the other won’t 
go very far after to-night’s work.” 

I was astonished at the rascal’s audacity, but took care 
to keep my eyes fixed abstractedly upon the ceiling, and 
drank my wine in as unconscious a manner as possible. 
I felt that Flannigan was looking toward me with his 
wolfish eyes to see if I had noticed the allusion. He 
whispered something to his companion which I failed 
to catch. It was a caution, I suppose, for the other 
answered rather angrily: 

“Nonsense! Why shouldn’t I say what I like? Over 
caution is just what would ruin us.” 

“I believe you want it not to come off,” said Flanni- 
gan. 

“You believe nothing of the sort,’ said the other, 
speaking rapidly and loudly. ‘You know as well as I 
do that when I play for a stake I like to win it. But 
IT won’t have my words criticized and cut short by you 
or any other man. I have as much interest in our suc- 
cess as you have—more, I hope.” 

He was quite hot about it, and puffed furiously at his 
cigar for some minutes. The eyes of the other ruffian 
wandered alternately from Dick Merton to myself. I 
knew that I was in the presence of a desperate man, 
that a quiver of my lip might be the signal for him to 


236 A STUDY IN SCARLET 


plunge a weapon into my heart, but I betrayed more ~ 


self-command that I should have given myself credit © 


for under such trying circumstances. As to Dick, he was © 
as immovable and apparently as unconscious as the Egyp- — 


tian Sphinx. 


There was silence for some time in the smoking-room, © 
broken only by the crisp rattle of the cards, as the man — 
Muller shuffled them up before replacing them in his — 
pocket. He still seemed to be somewhat flushed and ir- — 


ritable. Throwing the end of his cigar into the spittoon, — 
he glanced defiantly at his companion and turned toward © 


me 


be heard of again?” 


“Can you tell me, sir,” he said, “when this ship will — 


They were both looking at me, but, though my face : 


may have turned a trifle paler, my voice was a steady 


as ever as I answered: 


“I presume, sir, that it will be heard of first when it 


enters Queenstown Harbor.” 


“Ha, ha!’ laughed the angry little man, “I knew you 
would say that. Don’t you kick me under the table, Flan- — 


nigan, I won’t stand it. I know what I am doing. You — 


are wrong, sir,’ he continued, turning to me; “utterly 


wrong.” 

“Some passing ship, perhaps?” suggested Dick. 

“No, nor that either.” 

“The weather is fine,’ I said; “why should we not be 
heard of at our destination?” 


“I didn’t say we shouldn’t be heard of at our destina- 
tion. Possibly we may not, and in any case that is not 


where we shall be heard of first.” 
“Where then?” asked Dick. 


“That you shall never know. Suffice it that a rapid and © 
mysterious agency will signal our whereabouts, and that — 
before the day is out. Ha! ha!” and he chuckled once © 


again. : 


“Come on deck!” growled his comrade; “you have ‘ 
drunk too much of that confounded brandy-and-water. — 
It has loosened your tongue. Come away!” and taking — 


A STUDY IN SCARLET 237 


him by the arm he half led him, half forced him out of 
the smoking-room, and we heard them stumbling up the 
companion together, and onto the deck. 

“Well, what do you think now?” I gasped, as I turned 


toward Dick. He was as imperturbable as ever. 


“Think!” he said; “why, I think what his companion 
thinks, that we have been listening to the ravings of a 
half-drunken man. The fellow stunk of brandy.” 

“Nonsense, Dick! you saw how the other tried to 
stop his tongue.” 

“Of course he did. He didn’t want his friend to make 
a fool of himself before strangers. Maybe the short 
one is a lunatic, and the other his private keeper. It’s 
quite possible.” 

“Oh, Dick! Dick!” I cried; “how can you be so blind? 
Don’t you see that every word confirmed our previous 
suspicion ?” 

“Humbug, man!” said Dick; “you’re working yourself 
into a state of nervous excitement. Why, what the devil 
do you make of all that nonsense about a mysterious 
agent which would signal our whereabouts : reat 

“TIl tell you what he meant, Dick,’ I said, bending 
forward and grasping my friend’s arm. “He meant a 
sudden glare and a flash seen far out at sea by some 
lonely fisherman off the American coast. That’s what 
he meant.” 

“T didn’t think you were such a fool, Hammond,” said 
Dick Merton testily. “If you try to fix a literal meaning 
on the twaddle that every drunken man talks, you will 
come to some queer conclusions. Let us follow their ex- 
ample, and go on deck. You need fresh air, I think. 
Depend upon it, your liver is out of order. A sea-voyage 
will do you a world of good.” 

“Tf I ever see the end of this one,’ I groaned, PY 
promise never to venture on another. They are laying 
the cloth, so it’s hardly worth while my going up. I'll 
stay below and unpack my things.” 

“TI hope dinner will find you in a more pleasant state 
of mind,” said Dick; and he went out, leaving me to my 


238 A STUDY IN SCARLET 


thoughts until the clang of the great gong summoned us — 
to the saloon. 

“T was glad to notice that Flannigan was placed almost 
opposite to me. As long as I had him before my eyes 
I knew that, for the time at least, we were safe. — 
He was sitting with what was meant to be a sociable 
smile on his grim face. It did not escape me that 
he drank largely of wine—so largely that even before 
the dessert appeared his voice had become decidedly 
husky. His friend Muller was seated a few paces 
lower down. He ate little, and appeared to be nervous © 
and restless. 

“Now, ladies,” said our genial captain, “I trust that 
you will consider yourselves at home aboard my vessel. 
I have no fears for the gentlemen. A bottle of cham- 
pagne, steward. MHere’s to a fresh breeze and a quick 
passage! I trust our friends in America will hear of © 
our safe arrival in eight days, or in nine at the very 
latest.” 

I looked up. Quick as was the glance which passed 
between Flannigan and his confederate, I was able to 
intercept it. There was an evil smile upon the former’s 
thin lips. 

There was a sudden lull in the conversation. The 
ordinary subjects of interest appeared to be exhausted. — 
The opportunity was a favorable one. 

“May I ask, captain,’ I said, bending forward and 
speaking very distinctly, “what you think of Fenian 
manifestoes ?” 

The captain’s ruddy face became a shade darker from 
honest indignation. 

“They are poor, cowardly things,” he said, “as silly as 
they are wicked.” 

“The impotent threats of a set of anonymous scoun- 
drels,”’ said a pompous-looking old gentleman beside him. 

“Oh, captain,” said the fat lady at my side, “you don’t 
really think they would blow up a ship?” : 

“T have no doubt they would if they could. But I am 
very sure they shall never blow up mine.” 


A STUDY IN SCARLET 239 


“May I ask what precautions are taken against them?” 
asked an elderly man at the end of the table. 

“All goods sent aboard the ship are strictly exam- 
ined,” said Captain Dowie. 

“But suppose a man brought explosives aboard with 
him?” I suggested. 

“They are too cowardly to risk their own lives in 
that way.” 

During this conversation Flannigan had not betrayed 
the slightest interest in what was going on. He raised 
his head now and looked at the captain. 

. “Don’t you think you are rather underrating them?” 

he said. “Every secret society has produced desperate 
men—why shouldn’t the Fenians have them, too? Many 
men think it a privilege to die in the service of a cause 
which seems right in their eyes, though others may think 
it wrong.” 

“Indiscriminate murder cannot be right in anybody’s 
eyes,” said the little clergyman. 

“The bombardment of Paris was nothing else,’ said 
Flannigan; “yet the whole civilized world agreed to look 
on with folded arms, and change the ugly word ‘murder’ 
into the more euphonious one of ‘war.’ It seemed right 
enough to German eyes. Why shouldn’t dynamite seem 
so to the Fenian?” 

“At any rate, their empty vaporings have led to noth- 
ing as yet,” said the captain. 

“Excuse me,” returned Flannigan, “but is there not 
some room for doubt yet as to the fate of the ‘Dotterel ?’ 
I have met men in America who asserted from their own 
personal knowledge that there was a coal torpedo aboard 
that vessel.” 

“Then they lied,” said the captain. “It was proved con- 
clusively at the court-martial to have arisen from an ex- 
plosion of coal-gas—but we had better change the subject, 
or we may cause the ladies to have a restless night ;” and 
the conversation once more drifted back into its original 
channel. 

“After all,” I thought, as I gazed into the blue depths 


240 A STUDY IN SCARLET 


beneath me, “if the worst comes to the worst, it is better — 
to die here than to linger in agony upona sick bed onland,” — 
A man’s life seems a very paltry thing amid the great — 
forces of Nature. All my philosophy could not prevent — 
my shuddering, however, when | turned my head and © 
saw two shadowy figures at the other side of the deck, — 
which I had no difficulty in recognizing. They seemed — 
to be conversing earnestly, but I had no opportunity of 
overhearing what was said; so I contented myself with 
pacing up and down, and keeping a vigilant watch upon — 
their movements. 

It was a relief to me when Dick came on deck. Even 
an incredulous confidant is better than none at all. 

“Well, old man,” he said, giving me a facetious dig 
in the ribs, “we’ve not been blown up yet.” 
“No, not yet,’‘said 1; “but that’s no proof that we are 

not going to be.” 

“Nonsense, man!’ said Dick; “I can’t conceive what 
has put this extraordinary idea into your head. I have 
been talking to one of your supposed assassins, and he 
seems a pleasant fellow enough—dquite a sporting char- 
acter, I should think, from the way he speaks.” 

“Dick,” I said, “I am as certain that those men have 
an infernal machine, and that we are on the verge of 
eternity, as if I saw them putting the match to the fuse.” 

“Well, if you really think so,” said Dick, half-awed 
for the moment by the earnestness of my manner, “it 
is your duty to let the captain know of your suspicions.” 

“You are right,’ I said; “I will, My absurd timidity 
has prevented my doing so sooner. I believe our lives 
can only be saved by laying the whole matter before 
him.” 

“Well, go and do it now,” said Dick, “but for good- 
ness’ sake don’t mix me up in the matter.” 

“T’ll speak to him when he comes off the bridge,’ I 
answered; “and in the meantime I don’t mean to lose 
sight of them.” 

“Let me know of the result,” said my companion; and © 


A STUDY IN SCARLET 241 


with a nod he strolled away in search, I fancy, of his 
partner at the dinner-table. 

Left to myself, | bethought me of my retreat of the 
morning, and climbing on the bulwark I mounted into 
the quarter-boat and lay down there. In it I could re- 
consider my course of action, and by raising my head 
I was able at any time to get a view of my disagreeable 
neighbors. 

An hour passed, and the captain was still on the bridge. 
He was talking to one of the passengers, a retired naval 
officer, and the two were deep in debate concerning some 
abstruse point in navigation. I could see the red tips of 
their cigars from where I lay. It was dark now, so dark 
that I could hardly make out the figures of Flannigan 
and his accomplice. They were still standing in the posi- 
tion which they had taken up after dinner. A few of the 
passengers were scattered about the deck, but many had 
gone below. A strange stillness seemed to pervade the 
air. The voices of the watch and the rattle of the wheel 
were the only sounds which broke the silence. 

Another half-hour passed. The captain was still upon 
the bridge. It seemed as if he would never come down. 
My nerves were in a state of unnatural tension, so much 
so that the sound of two steps upon the deck made me 
start up in a quiver of excitement. I peered over the 
edge of the boat, and saw that our suspicious passengers 
had crossed from the other side, and were standing al- 
most directly beneath me. The light of a binacle fell 
full upon the ghastly face of the ruffan Flannigan. Even 
in that short glance I saw that Muller had the ulster, 
whose use I knew so well, slung loosely over his arm. I 
sunk back with a groan. It seemed that my fatal pro- 
crastination had sacrificed two hundred innocent lives. 

“This place will do,” said a voice. 

“Yes, the leeward side is best.” 

“T wonder if the trigger will act?” 

“T am sure it will.” 

“We were to let it off at ten, were we not?” 

“Yes, at ten sharp. We have eight minutes yet.” 
There was a pause. Then the voice began again: 


242 A STUDY IN SCARLET 


“They'll hear the drop of the trigger, won’t they?” 

“It doesn’t matter. It will be too late for any one to 
prevent its going off.” 

“That’s true. There will be some excitement among 
those we have left behind, won’t there?” 

“Rather. How long do you reckon it will be before 
they hear of us?” 

“The first news will get in at about midnight, at ear- 
liest.” 

“That will be my doing.” 

“No, mine.” 

“Ha! ha! we'll settle that.” 

There was a pause here. Then I heard Muller’s voice 
in a ghastly whisper: “There’s only five minutes more.” 

How slowly the moments seemed to pass! I could 
count them by the throbbing of my heart. 

“It'll make a sensation on land,” said a voice. 

“Yes, it will make a noise in the newspapers.” 

I raised my head and peered over the side of the boat. 
There seemed no hope, no help. Death stared me in the 
face, whether I did or did not give the alarm. The cap- 
tain had at last left the bridge. The deck was deserted, 
save for those two dark figures crouching in the shadow 
of the boat. 

Flannigan had a watch lying open in his hand. 

“Three minutes more,” he said. “Put it down upon 
the deck.” 

“No; put it here on the bulwarks.” 

It was the little square box. I knew by the sound 
that they had placed it near the davit, and almost ex- 
actly under my head. 

I looked over again. Flannigan was pouring some- 
thing out of a paper into his hand. It was white and 
granular—the same that I had seen him use in the morn- 
ing. It was meant as a fuse, no doubt, for he shoveled 
it into the little box, and I heard the strange noise which 
had previously arrested my attention. 

“A minute and a half more,” he said. “Shall you 
or I pull the string?” 

“I will pull it,’ said Muller. 2 


A STUDY IN SCARLET 243 


He was kneeling down and holding the end in his hand. 
Flannigan stood behind with his arms folded, and an air 
of grim resolution upon his face. 

I could stand it no longer. My nervous system seemed 
to give way in a moment. 

“Stop!’ I screamed, springing to my feet. “Stop, 
misguided and unprincipled men!” 

They both staggered backward. I fancy they thought 
I was a spirit, with the moonlight streaming down upon 
my pale face. 

I was brave enough now. I had gone too far to re- 
treat. 

“Cain was damned,” I cried, ‘and he slew but one; 
would you have the blood of two hundred upon your 
souls ?” 

“He’s mad!” said Flannigan. ‘“Time’s up. Let it 
off, Muller !” 

I sprang down upon the deck. 

“You sha’n’t do it!” I said. 

“By what right do you prevent us?” 

“By every right, human and divine.” 

“Tt’s no business of yours. Clear out of this.” 

“Never!” said I. 

“Confound the fellow! There’s too much at stake 
to stand on ceremony. I'll hold him, Muller, while you 
pull the trigger.” 

Next moment I was struggling in the herculean grasp 
of the Irishman. Resistance was useless; I was a child 
in his hands. 

He pinned me up against the side of the vessel, and 
held me there. 

“Now,” he said, “look sharp. He can’t prevent us.” 

I felt that I was standing on the verge of eternity. 
Half-strangled in the arms of the taller ruffan, I saw 
the other approach the fatal box. He stooped over it 
and seized the string. I breathed one prayer when I 
saw his grasp tighten upon it. Then came a sharp snap, 
a strange, rasping noise. The trigger had fallen, the 
side of the box flew out, and let off—two gray carrier 
pigeons. 


244 A STUDY IN SCARLET i 


Little more need be said. It is not a subject on which 
I care to dwell. The whole thing is too utterly dis- 
gusting and absurd. Perhaps the best thing I can do is to 
retire gracefully from the scene, and let the sporting 
correspondent of the New York “Herald” fill my un- 
worthy place. Here is an extract clipped from its col- 
umns shortly after our departure from America: 

“Pigeon-flying extraordinary.—A novel match has 
been brought off last week between the birds of John 
H. Flannigan, of Boston, and Jeremiah Muller, a well- 
known citizen of Lowell. Both men have devoted much 
time and attention to an improved breed of bird, and 
the challenge is an old-standing one. The pigeons were 
backed to a large amount, and there was considerable 
local interest in the result. The start was from the deck 
of the transatlantic steamship ‘Spartan,’ at ten o’clock 
on the evening of the day of starting, the vessel being 
then reckoned to be about a hundred miles from the 
land. The bird which reached home first was to be de- 
clared the winner. Considerable caution had, we believe, 
to be observed, as some captains have a prejudice against 
the bringing off of sporting events aboard their vessels. 
In spite of some little difficulty at the last moment, the 
trap was sprung almost exactly at ten o’clock. Muller’s 
bird arrived in Lowell in an extreme. state of 
exhaustion on the following morning, while Flannigan’s 
has not been heard of. The backers of the latter have 
the satisfaction of knowing, however, that the whole affair 
has been characterized by extreme fairness. The pigeons 
were confined in a specially invented trap, which could 
only be opened by the spring. It was thus possible to 
feed them through an aperture in the top, but any tam- 
pering with their wings was quite out of the question. 
A few such matches would go far toward popularizing 
pigeon-flying in America, and form an agreeable variety 
to the morbid exhibitions of human endurance which have 
assumed such proportions during the last few years.” 


THE END - 


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